


I Dreamt of Heroes

by Me_aGlorifiedPigeon



Series: I Dreamt of... [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Fantasy AU, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith and Blue "get along", Lance is not a paladin, Langst, Lotor is super manipulative, Mage Holts, Oracle Lance, Princess Pidge, Supportive Big Brother Matt, healer hunk, past self-harm, so much langst, the lions are actual magical lions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 23:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 88,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Me_aGlorifiedPigeon/pseuds/Me_aGlorifiedPigeon
Summary: Lance can see visions of Voltron in his sleep. Voltron, a team of heroes who are destined to save Altea from the iron grip of Zarkon's army. They ride magical lions, bear gifts from the gods, and battle monsters of all kinds. Lance can see them, can sense the lions as they slumber. This is why Haggar keeps him close by her side if ever he sets foot outside his cage. Sorry, he means room. Lance knows now that he's been lied too. Unfortunately, there's not much he can do about it.Meanwhile Voltron has come together and has begun to build their army. One of their priorities should probably be to rescue the person who knows what they'll do before they even think to do it, right? Right!





	1. The Boy With the Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LetPromptoRideHisChocobo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetPromptoRideHisChocobo/gifts).



> Well, welcome to my first posted multichapter Voltron fic! I've had some writer's block with Protect a Heart, so I guess here I am being like every other fic writer and starting a whole other WIP! Oops.

“Did you have another dream, child?” Haggar asked, running her hand through the boy’s hair.

“I did,” the boy grinned, stretching his sun browned cheeks.

“Will you tell Auntie about it?” Haggar requested. The boy ran to the bedside table and picked up what looked like messy scribbled pieces of paper. Haggar raised an eyebrow “Did you draw something for me?”

“I drew them when I woke up, because you always get mad when I forget, so I tried really hard not too!” The boy exclaimed. He thrust the papers into Haggar's hands.

Haggar examined the work before her. It was messy, crude, and unlearned. But the colors were vivid. Some vague red shape with four limbs and a purple head was sat upon a fierce red lion, wild and ferocious. Beside it was a larger black lion, blue accent on its face and chest. The wide “V” of Voltron. Upon its back sat a man decked in black with a white shock of hair among the black mass of his head, one arm solid gray with a purple hand. On another sheet of paper was a circle, outlined in brown and not colored in. In the center were big blue eyes, drawn in shocking detail. Not very well, but the boy had clearly done his best. The eyes were outlined in black, but the irises were several shades of blue, with black pupils containing a single pink spot in each. Under each eye was a single mark that made Haggar burn inside. Two pink marks that marked the face as Altean. In the corner of this page was a blue lion and a figure in pink sat upon it, wielding a blue whip. On another page, there were two more lions, one yellow and the other green. Upon their backs sat a yellow figure with an orange ribbon around its head, and a green figure with huge grey circles in its face. The final page showed a blue figure with an orange mustache in the center of its face. Tiny blue marks were displayed just above the mustache, but Haggar cared more for the figure beside the man, labeled in shaky handwriting in black crayon: ME.

“You were in your own dreams?” Haggar demanded. She knew the boy had to have some connection to Voltron. But he’d never mentioned being in one of his own dreams before. Not that he remembered them very often.

“I think I was just watching,” The boy said. “I don’t think I was really there. But the mustache man is really nice! I like to think he’d be like an uncle to me!”

Haggar pursed her lips, her mood instantly sour. “The mustached man is a traitor to the kingdom. Do not dream of fraternizing with wicked men.”

The boy’s face fell. “Sorry.”

Haggar turned her gaze back to the pages of terrible art she held in her hands. The next page showed a drawing of the green figure with the huge silver… eyes? The figure was amongst several taller figures, dressed in orange. The horses drawn above their heads were instantly recognizable, from their armor, as Freedom Fighter steeds. Haggar scoffed. Of course Voltron would ally themselves with Freedom Fighters. The page after that was filled with only purple figures. Each one held a gray sword and wore black armor. In the corner of the page was a symbol, a shape Haggar recognized vaguely. The final page had another set of lions drawn across it, blue on the very left, and yellow and the very right, and Black in the center. Sitting proudly on Black was a purple figure in red armor with yellow eyes. Zarkon. On Red, to the left, sat a brown figure with gray hair, decked in white and yellow armor. On Blue, a blue man dressed in orange clothes, and on Green and Yellow, two earthy colored heroes. The paladins of old. A purple man was stood beside the Blue lion, however, and a black arrow pointed at the man, labeling him as… Marmora.

Haggar slammed the page to the table’s surface. “How did you learn of this?”

The boy trembled, but Haggar felt no mercy. He had to fear her. How else would he stay obedient? Holding his family over his head would only last for so long, if they could never prove they had them in their clutches. “I- I dreamt it. Marmora hid the Blue Lion, it accepted him as a temporary pilot after Blaytz-”

“Do not speak their names!” Haggar shouted, and the boy immediately went silent. Haggar glared at the pictures. “Who are the warriors in purple?”

“Th-the Blade of M- the Blade. Just the Blade,” The boy corrected himself.

Haggar narrowed her eyes. “They named themselves after a traitor. They are traitors to the crown. Tell me where they hide themselves.”

“I- I don’t know, a forest? A cave? It was dark, they lit the space with pale lanterns,” The boy explained.

“Useless. Tell me the names of these paladins,” Haggar demanded, pointing at the paper with the green and yellow heroes on it.

“I don’t remember, um. The, uh, the green one is Pidge?” The boy stammered. “I don’t know.”

“Stupid boy. Tell me of this paladin,” Haggar pointed at the picture of the Altean face.

“She’s beautiful,” The boy began. “She’s strong and she can shapeshift, and-”

“Her name,” Haggar snapped. The boy looked down at the floor, silently admitting that he didn’t know the woman’s name either. Haggar scowled. “Am I correct to assume you do not remember any other names?”

“Yes,” The boy whispered.

Haggar smacked the boy, and he stumbled at the sudden force, falling to the ground. “Stupid brat! You’ll never get to visit your mother at this rate!”

“N-no! Please, please I’ll do better, let me see Mama!” The boy pleaded, scrambling over to Hagger, to grovel at her feet. Disgusted, Hagger turned on her heel and exited the room. The guard shut the door behind her.

“Do not open the door again today. The food can be placed through the slot,” Haggar ordered.

The guard, a young new recruit, nodded. “But, Lady Haggar, I do have a question.”

“Ask, but I will not answer if I do not see the question to be worth my time,” Haggar scowled.

“Does the boy not have a name?” The new recruit asked.

Haggar narrowed her eyes at the new recruit. His name was Ulaz, if she remembered correctly. “It is none of your business whether or not the prisoner has a name, Ulaz.”

“I was just curious,” Ulaz said, in lieu of an apology.

Haggar studied the man for a moment,her lips pursed. Finally, she clicked her tongue in disdain and said, “The boy’s name is Lance McClain."


	2. The Champion Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has grown up, and he doesn't quite like how the Galra are running things. Lance is platonically crushing on people who literally don't know he exists. Ulaz is a True Bro. Shiro is busted out of prison, and it gives Lance a really bad headache.

Lance had grown an awful lot since he was the child to blindly told “Auntie” Haggar anything she wanted to know. He’d long since assumed that she or her creepy druid zombie army had killed off his family years ago, no longer wanting to deal with the bother of so many prisoners just to keep one little boy compliant. Lance tried to keep them in his memories, but he’d been too small, when he was taken, to really cement anything. So every night he whispered their names to himself, just hoping he’d remember. Every now and then, he’d get stuck, but he always remembered eventually.

These days, Haggar resorted to violence to get her way. Not that she hadn’t hit him, or beat him when he was a kid. But Lance had grown rather rebellious in his own kind of way, and he refused to tell her what his drawings meant.

Lance had started purposefully being vague about details in his art once he realized who the Black Paladin in his dreams was. It was a visit to the Arena that gave him this revelation, and he’d been seated right between Haggar and Ulaz the entire time, so he’d been too afraid to gasp in shock when he recognized the sight of pure aether powering his stone arm. Also known as quintessence, or life energy. He’d stared intently at the man the entire battle- he was fighting a chimera, but Lance wasn’t worried for his safety in that regard. The Black Paladin rode the Black Lion, a very special kind of manticore. No, Lance had been more concerned that Haggar might recognize him from his art. Haggar did not, and she did not see anything suspicious when Lance asked what the man’s title was. They called him Champion.

It had taken a while for Lance to completely decide he didn’t believe Haggar’s words about traitors and wickedness. In all his dreams, he’d never seen the Paladins be cruel to anyone except the soldiers they battled. Besides, Lance had seen his guard, Ulaz, in many of his dreams. That had been a surprise, certainly. But every dream that featured the “traitors” with purple skin and near black armor featured Ulaz’s face, just as serious and calm as always.

When Lance brought this up to Ulaz, he had harshly demanded they not speak of such things around the druids, and quietly admitted that he was part of a rebelling group called the Blade. Lance explained that he knew that already, but he still asked questions. Ulaz was willing to answer them during their private moments. Some questions led to other questions. Some led to firm answers.

Lance learned more of Zarkon’s cruelty. It was when he decided it wasn’t Voltron that was evil. It was the king and his men. Voltron was trying to save Altea.

The door swung open, Haggar walking in with a frown on her face. “Did you dream?”

“Good morning to you, too, Auntie,” Lance said loftily. “I had a wonderful night’s rest, thank you.”

“This is no time for games,  _ boy _ , we still haven’t learned the location of the lions,” Haggar snapped.

“I don’t know where they are,” Lance huffed. “Maybe they’re back with the gods, maybe the heroes I’m dreaming of won’t exist for hundreds of years, but I’m telling you  _ I don’t know where they are _ .”

The attitude must have gotten on Haggar’s nerves because she smacked him before gripping him by the chin and jerking his head to look out the tiny window of his bedroom. Her talon fingernails dug into his skin and locked his jaw uncomfortably.

The view out his window was never the best. It looked straight into the courtyard, right at the gallows. Right now, some traitor was about to be hung for his crimes against Zarkon. Haggar’s stale breath hit his ear as she hissed, “That will be you if you do not resume being useful soon,  _ boy _ . Zarkon has no use for pathetic children.”

Lance didn’t know why he was suddenly breathing so quick and shallow. It was a panic of sorts, combined stress of the threat, the inability to talk back, and the fact that Haggar was a powerful witch who was standing much to close to him. Haggar might as well have thrown him to the floor when she released him, because he hit the stones beneath his feet hard. Haggar paid him no mind, coming to a stand at the other side of the room. “Did you dream?”

“Y-yes, Auntie,” Lance said, his breathing beginning to even out.

Haggar hummed, sounding barely pleased, mostly displeased. “Tell me what you dreamed.”

Lance scrambled to his bedside table, picking up the drawings he’d done that morning. He handed the stack to Haggar, and she snatched them from his hand.

Lance waited as she studied each drawing, her face blank and emotionless. Haggar lifted a page. “The name of this paladin.”

Lance studied the large yellow figure with the hammer on the page. He found it simple enough to lie to the woman before him about this boy. “I don’t know.”

“The whereabouts?” Haggar pressed on, gritting her teeth.

“I don’t know,” Lance lied again. He’d seen visions of the boy lying in the grass, staring up at the sky, he’d seen visions of the boy telling stories to a hoard of smaller children. He’d seen visions of the boy in a school, learning the history of Altea from Galra text. Visions that were seemingly harmless, so short and sweet and innocent, but that could put this boy in grave danger.

Haggar narrowed her eyes. “The threat level.”

“Zero,” Lance said honestly. “No stirrings of rebellion until he awakens the yellow lion, and he hasn’t. Yellow is still asleep.”

Haggar put the paper on the bottom of the stack and held up another. “This one?”

“Pidge? I don’t know where he is,” Lance said. He was lying again. Well, not entirely. Pidge would soon be constantly on the move. She -it was better to keep Haggar believing she was a he so that she couldn’t find her- was searching for her brother, dead set on freeing him from the Galra no matter what it takes.

“Threat level,” Haggar demanded.

“Zero,” Lance lied. “He doesn’t rebel until long after he awakens his lion. Green is still sleeping.”

Haggar hummed thoughtfully as she flipped through the pages. Her eyes widened, and Lance stiffened. What was it now? Haggar lifted a single page, the black paladin with his nearly indiscernible glowing weapon. He was standing over Zarkon, triumphant. “What is this?”

“Za-Zarkon’s death,” Lance swallowed thickly.

“What is this paladin’s name?” Haggar hissed.

“I don’t know,” Lance said truthfully.

“Where is he!?” Haggar shouted.

“I don’t know!” Lance shouted right back, hoping the volume would hide the lie.

“When does this happen!?”

“I don’t know!” Lance screamed, covering his ears with his palms, and curling into himself a little.

Lance didn’t know. Rather, he  _ couldn’t _ know. He didn’t want to hurt them, they were such good people. He’d seen them enough times to know. Hunk, the future Yellow Paladin, was so kind. He was always so determined to help, determined to see an end to suffering. Pidge, the next Green Paladin, was so smart! So fiery and persistent. She’d find her brother, and she’d stop the Galra from hurting any other families. Allura, the Blue Paladin, was so brave, so honorable. She was so strong, and not just physically. She was always so collected. The Champion, a warrior who refused to kill. Lance had seen him in battle in the Gladiator Ring. He’d seen him refuse to kill. He’d seen him spill enough blood to entertain the crowd, but stand over his fallen opponents and refuse to take their lives. Then there was the final paladin. A warrior fierce and bold, thinking nothing of his own life, only thinking of the greater good. Putting Altea before himself. Keith was a skilled warrior with a martyr’s soul.  _ Lance couldn’t let them be discovered. _ Voltron counted on  _ him _ for now. Altea’s future depended on him.

“Lance,” Ulaz’s smooth, deep voice brought Lance out of his head, and he snapped back into the present to meet Ulaz’s golden gaze. Lance’s vision was blurred, and his face was wet.

“Ulaz,” Lance greeted.

“What did you dream?” Ulaz asked. Lance glared at Ulaz.

“I’ve already spoken to Auntie about my dreams,” Lance snapped.

Ulaz gave the boy a wry smirk. “Haggar and her drones are out of earshot. You were in your head for a while, little calf.”

Lance glanced at the door, trying to see any signs of druid interference, despite the fact that he wouldn’t be able to tell even if there were. “The Black Paladin killed Zarkon. Or- will kill Zarkon.”

“The Black Paladin?” Ulaz muttered to himself. His eyes took on a distant quality as he thought about the future. Then his eyes refocused and he looked at Lance with new determiniation. “Have you discovered yet, who this paladin is?”

“The Champion,” Lance said. Ulaz’s eyes went wide.

“How long have you known this?” He demanded, grabbing Lance by his shoulders.

“As soon as I saw him,” Lance said. Ulaz muttered a curse before striding out of the room and closing the door. Lance heard it lock as it closed, and he sighed.

Alone, again.

* * *

 

“Aaauuughhh!” Then silence.

Shiro sat in his cell, the sudden quiet pressing hard against his ears once again. During the day, there weren’t any gladiator battles. The Galra just didn’t like to watch men die under the hot sun, he supposed. They were a race of dark elves, so maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe the sun irritated their eyes. So the silence went unbothered, for the most part, only the rare wail of the prisoner beside Shiro’s cell breaking it. He’d seen the druids visit that cell last night, just before his battle began.

The break in silence now, though, was not another pained moan as the prisoner beside him moved their body again. The new break in the silence was footsteps, making their way down the hall. Shiro heard the steps come to a stop, and he silently begged the footsteps to be stopping in front of the cell across his. Please not his own.

“Champion,” A voice made itself known. Shiro sighed heavily before he swung his head up to look at the patrolman now standing at his cell door.

“Are you here to take another arm?” Shiro asked wearily.

“The Harbinger has mentioned you,” The patrolman said. Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. Everyone in the prison knew of the Harbinger. Some of the dark elves locked down here had been members of an organization that Haggar had discovered thanks to her access to the Harbinger’s power. They’d survived multiple battles, survived druid torture, and eventually were executed, and the other prisoners blamed the Harbinger, whatever that was.

“Me specifically?” Shiro asked, hoping to stall. He could think of no reason for the Harbinger to have reported him, unless it had noticed his sad attempts of starting a prisoner-run revolution. Perhaps, if he didn’t get executed now, his sad attempts would have made a difference.That was a funny thought. If he ever got out of here, he should be a comedian. Wouldn’t Matt get a kick out of that? He was always telling him to lighten up a little.

“Indeed,” The patrolman said. Shiro expected the man to drag him off to the druids. To have him kneel before Zarkon and announce whatever wrongs he will be guilty of in the future. He expected to be executed. He did not expect the patrolman to slyly toss a blade into the center of the cell, the weapon falling with a quiet thud on the sackcloth blanket on the floor. Shiro looked at the sword for a brief moment before staring hard at the unmoving patrolman.

As a dark elf, the patrolman had larger pupils than most humans Shiro had met. After so long in such dimly lit quarters, though, Shiro’s own couldn’t be far off. The patrolman’s large pupils, however, gave him the look of a wild creature, something dangerous and fierce. Shiro didn’t back down in his staring.

After a moment, Shiro snatched the blade up, still not taking his eyes off the patrolman. There was a small scroll tied to the sword, and he examined it quietly.

_ BE READY TONIGHT _

Shiro looked up, and the patrolman was gone. Ready for what? What was the sword for? Was the patrolman aiding him in escape? Shiro thought back to what he’d said. The Harbinger mentioned him? What could that mean? Shiro was just another gladiator, just another Galra victim.

* * *

 

Lance was sat between Haggar and Sendak tonight, Ulaz having gone missing mysteriously only an hour prior to the gladiator battles. Sendak had sneered at Haggar, but when Zarkon had proclaimed that protecting the Harbinger was a job deserved by only the best of his soldiers. Then Sendak had practically thrown himself at Haggar’s feet, clearly desperate for a promotion.

Too bad Sendak’s fate was death. Lance remembered seeing as much ages ago. Sendak’s death was a big part of Lance’s enlightening when he was a child. It was the first death he’d ever dreamed of.

The battles were bloody, fierce, and Lance had never enjoyed watching them. The fifth battle was an ogre only recently captured, pitted against a veteran of the pits, yet to challenge the Champion, and having just slain his last challenger only moments ago. Some Galra slaves were still dragging the corpse off the arena floor.

Just before the ogre was about to hit the smaller opponent, Lance felt a stabbing pain in his head, like someone was trying to cleave it open. He gasped and cried out, doubling over.

Visions danced in his eyes, swimming and far too bright. He saw Ulaz’s face, lit by dim torchlight, as he slammed yet another guard to the ground. Then he saw the Champion, shaky on his feet, but still standing and following Ulaz through the line of prisons. Both of them were armed, blood slick on each silver blade. All Lance could hear was the loud roaring of the Black Lion, calling for her rider.

Lance screamed, the pain, the light, and the sound all too much for him.

_ The Black Paladin rises, the Black Paladin rises, the Black Paladin rises, the Black Paladin rises- _

Then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this lump of hot burning mess, because honestly, deciding to write a fic off the cuff was the worst idea ever. I'm still not building a plan for this, though, so you can just keep my mess.


	3. The Call to Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Ulaz walk through some sewage just before Ulaz ollies outtie and does the traditional "You're on your own, Hero" speech. Haggar has decided she has had enough of Lance's lies and uses a potion to get the information she wants from him, hot dog! Shiro decides that following a tiny suspicious figure down an alley is less likely to kill him than the Galra patrolmen in the city.

“Where are we going?” Shiro asked the man who had spirited him away into the sewers underneath the town. Both were now wearing cloaks snatched from the barracks, sewn from cloth dyed the color of Galra military. Purple. Shiro was sick of purple.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t risk consulting the Harbinger when Haggar or the other guards were around,” The man muttered, looking behind them for the fifth time since they’d lost their pursuers. 

“What is it about me that the Harbinger ‘saw’?” Shiro asked. “Because I really can’t think of anything I could do that would be of consequence to the Galra Empire.”

“You are the one who will kill Emperor Zarkon himself,” The man said. Shiro froze in his tracks. The man kept walking only a few steps before he turned and gave Shiro an unimpressed, quizzical, frown.

“Me? You’re absolutely sure the Harbinger meant me? I mean, surely this is a mix up, a mistranslation-”

“The Harbinger displayed images of a figure with white hair and a false arm,” The man interrupted. Shiro stared at him, at a loss for words. The man turned away and began walking again. Shiro jogged to catch up.

“I-I’m a hired bodyguard. I protect scholars in foreign terrains. I’m not- I’m not an assassin!” Shiro exclaimed, bewildered.

“You don’t need to be. You need to be a warrior. Which you are, if the arena has proved anything,” The man said.

“I can’t  _ kill Zarkon _ ! He has an army!” Shiro exclaimed, growing desperate.

“So will you,” The man assured, looking at Shiro with an even and blank stare. “The Harbinger speaks of the future. That includes the distant future.”

Shiro shook his head, refusing to believe the man’s words. “Look, this ‘Harbinger’ thing must be fallible. There has to be something it’s gotten wrong-”

“He. The Harbinger is a human calf.”

“Excuse me,  _ what _ ?” Shiro looked at the man incredulously at this revelation. There was no way the thing that brought doom to men and women alike was a  _ human child _ .

“Though, perhaps I have misjudged his age. He does not look all that much younger than you,” The man hummed thoughtfully to himself, eyes studying Shiro more closely. The man then looked away. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. He’s older than he looks in many respects. After all, clairvoyance ages even elves, and the lack of peer interaction likely doesn’t help.”

Shiro studied the man’s troubled expression warily for a moment. “How long has this kid been locked up?”

“Ah, at least a decade now. Perhaps longer,” The man murmured the last bit to himself, but even the first bit had Shiro reeling. Only a decade ago, Shiro had been only fifteen. Too young for Galra imprisonment. Imagine, living as a Galra captive from childhood, forced to share visions of the future, a better future, with people trying to put a stop to it. Shiro’s heart went out to the kid. Ah, look at him, he didn’t even know how old the Harbinger was.

The man put his arm out, effectively halting Shiro in his steps. Shiro looked up to see the man smirking at him a little.

“Is it common for humans to zone out like this?” The man asked with humor in his voice.

“Uh, dunno,” Shiro shrugged. “I guess maybe? Just got lost in thought.”

“Well, Champion, we’ve gone far enough. Just above us is the final grate in the city. You can exit here, get your bearings, and go wherever you’d like. I’m rather sure I’ve already ensured your future,” The man said.

“My name’s Shiro. And what about you? You can’t go back to the castle,” Shiro commented.

“I have an old friend to return to. Then I must inform the Blade that I can no longer keep in contact with the Harbinger,” The man said.

“Take me with you?” Shiro asked. He didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t face Matt’s family without knowing for sure where Matt was- and unfortunately, all he knew was that Matt’s execution was sprung by freedom fighters, and ten new heads were put on the block after the initial five were rescued. Not to mention that he could never face Keith again. He’d promised him something, and he couldn’t keep to his word. Keith would hate him if he returned.

“Apologies, Champion, but this is where my influence in your life dissipates. The Harbinger has never mentioned me in the prophecies of Voltron’s awakening,” The man said. He held up the pommel of his sword, a violet mark emblazoned in the end. “Every member of the Blade of Marmora carries this symbol. If you meet any, tell them you are a friend of Ulaz. They will aide you.”

The man, Ulaz, took off down the sewer, leaving Shiro alone to his fate. Shiro looked up to the grate above his head. All he could think about where the question Ulaz left him with. What was Voltron? Why was Voltron important? Only one way to find out, Shiro supposed.

* * *

 

Lance nursed his wounds by himself. He missed Ulaz, who had always been around to fret over him after a session, but now that the worst had come he was gone. Lance was no fool. He knew Ulaz had been the one to free the Champion. If not for the visions, the obvious lack of Ulaz’s presence during the ensuing chaotic search for the Champion would have been answer enough.

Haggar had been outraged to discover that somehow Lance had been keeping information from her. She beat him for it, of course, nothing much to speak of there. Lance merely had a few bruises, and a bloody nose. Nothing broken. Well, maybe his ankle, Lance couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter, he never left his bedroom. He could get by simply living in his bed for a bit.

The worst pain was Ulaz’s absence. Lance was sure Ulaz would return if it was possible to do so without losing his head, but. Ulaz had been a steady presence in his life. He’d been the guard at the door after Haggar’s check in. Every day from lunch to dinner. Ulaz liked to wander into the cell sometimes and call him “little calf” and Lance would miss that all-too-rare smile.

Lance studied his drawings of the Yellow Paladin. He stroked the page softly. “You’d never let me be sad, huh, Hunk?”

The drawing didn’t answer, but Lance could imagine the large boy’s comfortingly warm voice. He could picture his lovable smile.

“Cheer up, Lance,” he’d say. “I made your favorite!”

Lance hadn’t had his favorite treat in a long time, so the taste was long lost to him. But he could see Hunk holding a plate of them so vividly, he almost believed it was another prophecy. Maybe Lance could make it a reality. Maybe if he could escape…

Ah, it was nice to dream. But unlike his real dreams, this one would never come true.

Lance’s gaze drifted to the Red Paladin. How would this paladin, oh-so-serious Keith, try to cheer him up? Keith was so bad with emotions. Lance laughed at the idea of Keith stumbling through some supposedly comforting phrase. Lance studied the picture. Keith was the one who needed cheering up, not Lance. Lance would be fine. Haggar wouldn’t dare kill the boy who could see visions of Voltron’s future.

Keith, though. Keith seemed to always try going out of his way to kill  _ himself _ . It wasn’t even intentional, most of the time. Lance had dreamt of the boy driving himself to exhaustion over hunting down the only person he’d ever cared about. Lance had dreamt of Keith forgetting to eat meals and falling into survival mode while hunting for clues in the woods. Lance had dreamt of the boy jumping headfirst into danger, not even thinking twice about his own life. Keith was just… so thoughtless. Clearly he needed someone to sort him out.

But even with the multiple unintentional near-deaths… Lance had also dreamt of the boy slicing over his wrist with the small dagger he owned. Once, he’d dreamt of the boy examining poisons and fatal draughts. Lance had several times over seen him sitting in the dark and contemplating  _ something _ as he stared at that blade. Lance  _ hated _ not being able to know what he was thinking. He  _ hated _ not being able to comfort him.

Lance wondered if Hunk knew that Keith was sad. Maybe Hunk would give Keith a hug for him. Ah, it probably wouldn’t be in Lance’s name, but. Well, a hug was a hug, and Keith needed one.

Lance needed a lighter topic. Cake! He didn’t remember how it tasted, but according to some of the more useless dreams he’d had, cake was delicious. Hunk made a great chocolate one. It came in loads of flavors, but Lance couldn’t remember most of them. Allura  _ loved _ strawberry.

Allura loved a lot of things. She loved mice, she loved flowers, she loved sparkly things. There were sadder things too, that she loved. She loved the rain, because her baby brother loved it before he died of disease. She loved her father, because he raised her as best he could for all her life. She loved her mother, but she only knew the stories he father told her. Allura was beautiful, too. She looked lovely laughing, cheerful, and even though she also looked beautiful crying, it was a miserable sort of beautiful that hurt to see. So Lance liked the other things that she loved more. Her mice, her flowers, her sparkly things. They were so base, so shallow, they didn’t encompass everything Allura was!

Lance’s spirits fell suddenly, withering like a rapidly dying plant. He was too close to them. He felt like another Voltron paladin, with how much he knew of them all- but he was so disconnected. They didn’t know anything about him. They didn’t know anything about each other. Lance was ahead of the game, but eventually he’d fall far behind. There was no way he’d ever see the rest of the world. His entire world was this cell -sorry, bedroom- the corridors leading to the open sky arena, and the arena itself.

The door slammed open, and Lance dropped the sketches he was still working on this morning. Haggar had come early.

“The Green Paladin,” Haggar demanded.

“Pidge?” Lance asked, playing dumb as to what she wanted. Haggar snatched up his messy curls, tugging at the root and forcing him to cry out. As soon as his mouth opened, Haggar pushed a vial inside, snapping his jaw shut around the vial’s opening before he had a chance to realize what was happening.

“Drink it,” She ordered, tipping his head back, forcing the liquid down his throat.

Startled, Lance did just that, doing his best to keep from choking on the burning fluid. Haggar jerked the vial away from him, and he coughed as the flaming liquid made its way down his throat and chest.

“What is your name?” Haggar asked as soon as his coughing fit settled.

“Lance.” The answer came unbidden from Lance’s lips, and he looked at the witch with wide eyes.

Haggar smirked triumphantly. “Where is the Green Paladin?”

“She’s always on the move. She’s looking for her brother, who was captured by the Empire,” Lance answered. He curled his hands into fists, angry with himself as he spouted the words to the witch. The heat of the potion still burned under his skin, and he felt uncomfortable under the blankets. Haggar looked intrigued to learn that the paladin was a girl.

“Where will she be tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Lance said.

“Where will she be in three days?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t work that way,” Lance exclaimed.

Haggar growled angrily, but she moved on. “The Yellow Paladin. What is his name?”

“Hunk Garrett,” Lance said, and the heat in his blood turned cold, dread having outweighed the feeling the potion was forcing into him.

“And where is he?” Haggar demanded.

“He lives in Terra,” Lance said, tears streaming down his face now. “Please, please don’t hurt him.”

“Why have you been lying to me?” Haggar pressed onward.

Lance tried to appeal to any kindness, any affection, that the woman might harbor for him, after having raised him so long. “Please, please,  _ Auntie _ , I didn’t want them hurt,  _ don’t hurt them _ -”

Haggar was not moved. “The Red Paladin. What is his name?”

“Keith Kogane,” Lance whispered as tears blurred his vision. The potion’s effects still had him in a vice grip, even if the burning sensation had disappeared.

“Where is he?”

“No Man’s Land.  _ Please, Auntie- _ ”

“The Blue Paladin?”

“ _ -don’t hurt them _ . P-princess Allu-Allura.”

Haggar’s eyes widened. “Repeat what you just said.”

“P-princ-princess Allura,” Lance stammered through his sobs.

“If you want to live another day,  _ child _ , you will tell me where she is,” Haggar growled.

Lance hiccuped. “I-  _ I don’t know _ . I can’t see her- I-I’m  _ sorry _ ! Au-Auntie, please don’t hurt them, please!”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Or, rather, ears that heard but would not humor him. Rather than acknowledge the boy’s shrieks, Haggar spun on her heel and left the room, walking with newfound purpose and urgency.

_ “Auntie, please don’t hurt them!” _ Lance screamed after her. The door was shut and Lance heard the lock click. He curled into himself on the mattress, tears still flowing down his face like rivers. “Please…”

* * *

 

Shiro turned his collar up, hoping that and the hood covered enough of his face to keep the Galra soldiers walking through town from recognizing him. The white hair growing from the front of his head fell haphazardly wherever it seemed to please, and he worried someone would recognize it paired with the thick scar across the bridge of his nose.

The sewer grate had let out into the Capital’s outermost ring, of course, seeing as the rudimentary plumbing couldn’t feasibly extend to the smaller cities and towns away from here. It would take Shiro hours on horseback to get anywhere, let alone on foot. Shiro contemplated a few times, going back into the sewer and following it to the river, as that would likely take him to the seaside village he was raised in.

But he couldn’t go back to Terra. Could he? Terra had its own loyalties. It wasn’t sworn to the Galra dark elves like most of the kingdom was. Terra was also a port town, so he could sail away to anywhere at all, no risk of the Galra finding him. And who said he had to confront the Holts? Or Keith? He could just get in and disappear.

Matt’s smile hovered in Shiro’s mind’s eye. Matt, a studious young man, was studying magical herbs and plants, and had hired Shiro as protection for the journey. Fat load of good that did him. It only succeeded in the Galra taking notice of the two of them, and thus capturing them both and using Shiro in the ring. He didn’t know what happened to Matt after he saved him, only that apparently a group of freedom fighters rescued him and a couple others from the chopping block.

Shiro glanced around again, noticing an increase in Galra soldiers in their heavy iron armor and violet dyed leather boots. They must have decided he couldn’t possibly have been in any of the other sections of the Capital. He wondered how many elves were searching the river. Shiro recognized one captain, whose magic-imbued glass eye was rolling over the masses of civilians for any sign of the Champion.

Sendak. Shiro shivered, glad that more than a few people were slyly pulling their hoods over their faces as the guards walked by.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed Shiro’s arm. The heavy, stone one. “Champion, I suggest following me immediately if you don’t want the Galra to find you.”

Shiro’s heart was in his throat as he took in the much smaller hooded person beside him, and the leather wrapped hand on his replacement forearm. “Who are you?”

“Doesn’t matter, follow  _ me _ ,” The mysterious figure hissed. The figure was small and slight, and  _ fast _ . But even they knew they weren’t strong enough to force Shiro down the alley, as they darted down the path. Shiro took one moment to allow his hesitancy to shine. Then he ran after them, not wanting to risk getting caught and killed.  _ No _ one  _ escaped _ Galra imprisonment. Not without serious consequences.

So he ran after the mysterious figure offering him an out in a creepy alleyway in the Capital. That wasn’t suspicious at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't think I will be publishing chapters daily, because this is a surprise to me too, like, wow! It's probably really bad. Oh well, I'll just roll with it.


	4. The Lion Goddess' Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's Earth! Kind of. Hunk is a sweet innocent bean, and gets arrested for crimes he hasn't committed yet. Regris shows up? He gets a promotion and gets to guard the Harbinger! Shiro starts to have inklings, and Pidge decides to help him find the other paladins of Voltron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOREWARNING: Shiro is OOC, I think, oops? It felt natural to make him have these doubts, though.

Terra had its own small government. The current oligarchy was comprised of four men, one of those being Samuel Holt, a man of magic and knowledge. When his son and heir went out into the rest of Altea in pursuit of information about more of the magical world, Samuel celebrated his coming of age. Then Matthew and his hired protection were both captured and supposedly executed by Imperial guards, and any amicable breath shared between the tiny port city and the rest of the Empire was shattered. Katherine had been next in line, but just before the funeral of her brother, she ran away, refusing to believe that Matthew had been killed without proof.

Terra, from then on, had existed within a protective shield, powered by a rotating shift of mages. Every two hours, six mages were positioned at strategic points along Terra’s outer wall and together they lifted the shield. Trade from the ports couldn’t go inland anymore, but it was fine with Terra. The oligarchs merely traded with other continents, using their fishing and their small farms to make money. Overtime, this would probably become detrimental to their society, but for now it was enough.

The Galra Empire had left them alone so far. The shield was only up just in case. No one expected the Imperial soldiers to really attack. And they didn’t, exactly.

Hunk was with the little kids again when the Imperials showed up. They were all in the middle of the town when the Imperials came marching through the streets. Families ran for safety in their homes, the children were dragged away by mothers and fathers, and even Hunk’s mothers tugged him back into the old bakery they owned together.

“I though the shield kept people out of Terra?” Hunk asked his mother.

“I did too, baby,” Mom murmured, running her hand through Hunk’s hair.

“What do they want?” Mama huffed, glaring through the wooden window blinds at the Imperials outside.

Hunk followed Mama’s lead and peeked out through the blinds at the soldiers, now split up in pairs to check door to door. Hunk held his breath as a pair of soldiers stopped at the door just across the cobblestone path, their neighbor across the road.

Old Man Iverson was a grumpy kind of guy. He’d always gotten on Hunk’s case for having no male influence in his life, and gotten on his mothers’ cases for simply being in love. Hunk would be glad if the Imperials took him away. When Iverson answered the door, his face was pale and his good eye was wide in fear.

“How m-may I help the Empire?” Iverson’s voice quivered a bit in fear, and Hunk couldn’t help but watch, weirded out and a little curious.

“We are looking for Hunk Garrett, threat to the Galra Empire and traitor to the Crown,” one of the Imperials announced. Hunk’s breath caught, his blood rushing in his ears.

“The Garretts don’t live here,” Iverson said, voice still shaking. “Those freaks live just over there.”  
Iverson’s bony finger was pointed directly at their home. Hunk’s heart was in his throat. Wait, no, that wasn’t his heart. Hunk heaved his lunch onto the floor boards as Mama went to answer the door, and Mom knelt down to comfort him.

Hunk hoped it wouldn’t be too bumpy a ride to his execution.

* * *

 

Most of the lower level soldiers had never seen the Harbinger themselves. Regris and Varkon certainly didn’t expect to see him until they climbed their way up the ranks, and while Regris held no delusions of grandeur, Varkon was sure he’d become a big fish quickly.

When Lady Haggar walked into the barracks, it was surprise enough, but for the Harbinger to be dragged in behind her and thrown to the floor. The way the human child trembled and wept was enough to put Regris on edge, and the cold expression on Lady Haggar’s face had been replaced with something warped and angry.

“Tell me who here is a traitor,” Haggar growled. The Harbinger shook his head, his face hidden from view as he refused to lift it up to meet her gaze. The action was its own kind of defiance, to keep from showing her such a respect.

Regris wasn’t much focused on that. There were at least three other Blade operatives in the barracks that he could point out just by scanning the place briefly. If the Harbinger had truly seen visions of members of the Blade, he could point out any of them and immediately, they would be killed, and anyone they’ve been seen associating with, just in case. Regris was awed, and perhaps a little confused by the Harbinger’s reluctance to give them up.

In the Blade, you sacrificed yourself for the common good, because no one would save you and risk the Mission. Regris wasn’t confused by the Harbinger’s selflessness. Regris was confused because he’d seen many a Blade executed, and heard that they were caught thanks to the Harbinger. While the Harbinger was no common knowledge among civilians, the Blade knew him well, and the soldiers of the Empire did as well. He hadn’t believed that the Harbinger could care so much for a cause he did not belong to.

Haggar’s claws wrenched at the Harbinger by his hair and he cried out in pain. Perhaps it was his cause. Perhaps the Harbinger was as much a prisoner as any of the rest of them. Regris pressed his lips into a tight line to keep from scowling at Zarkon’s witch.

“Who is a traitor?” Haggar snarled.

“You are,” The Harbinger finally spat. “You betrayed your kind, and I  _ know it _ , I’ve  _ seen it _ .”

Haggar didn’t seem to react, except for throwing the Harbinger hard across the floor so that he stumbled and scraped his hands and face. The witch sneered at the Harbinger. “Has the potion warn off, already?”

“Afraid of the truth?” The Harbinger snarled. “Afraid to remember that that’s what you are? A high elf magician who betrayed the order, who played with pure darkness, who paid for it with her own free will-”

“Silence!” Haggar shouted, and she blasted the Harbinger with magic. He screamed in pain and then fell silent, only the odd whimper leaving his lips. The barracks were silent. Regris could taste the fear in the air. Varkon, standing beside Regris, was trembling enough that Regris could hear his chain mail rattle quietly. Haggar scanned the line of soldiers carefully.

Her eyes landed on Regris. He swore she could read his very soul, but he did not move. He did not blink, or tremble. He stood still and met her gaze evenly. He knew she couldn’t truly read him.

“You’ve been promoted. Take the Harbinger back to his quarters. Stand outside his door until someone relieves you,” Haggar snapped.

Regris saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

He said nothing more as he gingerly pulled one of the Harbinger’s delicate brown arms over his shoulders. The skin was dangerously hot to the touch, slightly steaming from whatever spell Haggar had cast. Regris could only imagine what the soft brown skin felt like where the spell had landed. Regris aided the Harbinger out of the barracks and across the castle’s courtyard.

It was a silent journey, but halfway through the courtyard, the Harbinger gasped in pain. Regris froze. “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” The Harbinger muttered. “Please just take me back.”

Regris didn’t move. “You know of the Blade.”

The Harbinger went stiff. “I see a lot of things.”

“Have you seen me?” Regris asked.

“No,” The Harbinger confessed. He sounded genuine enough. Regris hadn’t been expecting to make enough of a difference in the cause, anyway.

“My name is Regris. I fight for-”

“The Blade. I have seen you. I’m sorry,” The Harbinger murmured. Regris took in the Harbinger’s expression as he said this. Like he was drinking in the sight of a loved one’s face before death row. Regris hummed grimly.

“That is life as a Blade. I do not expect to live forever,” Regris said. “But now you know you can trust me.”

The Harbinger stayed silent for a moment, deliberating. Regris took a step forward with him, and the Harbinger yelped in pain. “Okay, okay, it’s my ankle. I think I might’ve twisted it a few days ago, when the Champion escaped, or something.”

“I see.” Regris studied the Harbinger’s figure for a moment before deciding he looked light enough. Then he scooped the young human into his arms and began the journey to the Harbinger’s quarters.

“Ah! You don’t have to do this!” The Harbinger exclaimed.

“You’re in pain. And it will only grow worse if you walk on it like this,” Regris explained. “Trust me. I will try to mend it when we reach our destination.”

The Harbinger stared at him. “My name is Lance.”

Regris bowed his head in a respectful nod. He was honored to know the name of the Lion Goddess’ vassal.

* * *

 

“So, we’ve escaped the Capital. May I know my rescuer’s identity now?” Shiro asked, slipping his own hood off his head. He had his suspicions, but he couldn’t be too sure of himself just yet, even if it had been a couple of days. The hooded young woman who’d saved him smirked.

“Haven’t recognized me yet? You’re really off your game, Shirogane,” The young woman announced. The girl slipped off her hood, and Shiro immediately thought of Matt, bent over plants, grinning up at him and announcing that it was a bushel of scarlet wormwood, a magical plant with properties commonly observed in ancient love potions and poisons, which suggest that it was used in them.

“Katie?” Shiro asked, as this girl was definitely not Matt.

“That’s me. I go by Pidge, these days, though. Now that we have a bit of time-” Katie - _ Pidge _ \- sat down on a rock by the riverside, and folded her arms- “tell me where Matt is.”

“I… I don’t know. He was rescued just as they were about to execute him, and… that’s all I know,” Shiro explained.

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “What else do you know?”

“Something about the Harbinger saying that I was the future Black Paladin of Voltron,” Shiro snorted. Pidge raised one eyebrow thoughtfully as Shiro chuckled uncomfortably. “Isn’t that funny? Like the gods would pick me as the leader of Voltron.”

“It makes the most sense to me,” Pidge shrugged. “You’re an experienced fighter, but you don’t overestimate your ability. You help people as much as you can, and you are a brilliant strategist. You think things through.”

“Plenty of people are like that,” Shiro contradicted.

“You also have beef with Zarkon, if that arm is anything to go by. Can I study it? I’m thinking of going into animation of the nonliving as my magical focus,” Pidge announced.

“I’m not a petri dish,” Shiro said.

“And I’m not saying you are,” Pidge insisted.

Shiro sighed. “It doesn’t matter how suited for the role I am. I still don’t know how I’d ever find the Black Lion to begin with.”

“Maybe don’t start with the Black Lion,” Pidge suggested. “Start with something you know. What do you know?”

“I- I know that I have to go home and find Keith. I’m all he has, and even if I don’t want to face him, I should… make sure he’s okay.”

“Then I guess you’re headed back to Terra,” Pidge said. She stood up and began walking towards the north.

“Where are you going? Terra is west,” Shiro gestured downstream. Pidge looked over her shoulder at him.

“I’m looking for Matt. I won’t find him in Terra. The Empire has him, even if he isn’t a captive anymore,” Pidge said. Shiro marveled for a moment at her determination. He thought about the people suffering throughout the Empire, the people Matt might even be helping to save. He was a magician of near boundless knowledge. Perhaps he was of some use to whatever freedom fighters had rescued him. Shiro also knew, somehow, that he couldn’t let Pidge walk away right now.

“Matt can hold his own. Someone rescued him, right? He’s safe,” Shiro said, fidgeting a bit. “Thing is, I could really use a magician, I think, if I’m going to be the leader of Voltron.”

Pidge studied Shiro carefully, mulling over his words. Shiro tried not to squirm under her piercing gaze. He wondered if magicians could read auras. Could she sense his worries? His trepidation? Could she sense that he felt she might be an important contribution to his future? This was ridiculous. He couldn’t ask this of her. He barely even knew his own destiny, and now he was acting as if he knew hers?

“Okay.” It was said abruptly, cutting through Shiro’s thoughts like a sharp blade through flesh. Shiro blinked owlishly at Pidge, who merely shrugged. “If Matt’s with the rebels, I probably couldn’t convince him to come home until he’s stopped the Empire. Hells if I’m letting him fight alone. And helping Voltron out sounds important. Especially if Zarkon’s scared enough of those guys to slander their name for hundreds of years.”

“Great!” Shiro grinned.

“Let’s go home,” Pidge gave a jaunty half-bow-half-curtsy and began walking to the west, following the river. Shiro followed after her, glad to have some companionship on a journey he suddenly was beginning to feel would be far more important that simply escaping the Galra prison cells.

It was just the two of them, a man and a girl, on a mission to awaken Voltron.


	5. The Yellow Paladin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance leans on a newfound connection to the Black Lion, while Regris tends to his wounds. Pidge and Shiro come across a group of Galra soldiers and their prisoner, who happens to be the Yellow Paladin. What luck! Pidge is a frightening magician, and Keith is starting to sound like a really dangerous person.

_ Lend me your pain, young cub, _ Black said, her voice calm and soothing like the night sky. Or, what Lance had seen of it in his dreams. He didn’t get the best view from his single, tiny window. Not that it mattered, because the palace seemed to have a permanent cloud overhead, even over the gladiator arena.

The Black Lion had woken when the Champion escaped. It was what threw him into a panic like that, when the Black Lion had woken up and roared. He could hear her in his head at all hours now, and he could hear snatches of the Champion’s thoughts.  _ Shiro _ ’s thoughts, as he’d learned.

Lance loved being so close to the paladin now. He sent him feelings as often as he could. As many forewarnings as Black informed him she could transmit. Most of them were met with negatives. Black didn’t have much power, she was still mostly dormant so long as she stayed within the Life Crystal the Balmera had created.

“Ah!” Lance cried as Regris’ fingers grazed the wound again.

“Apologies. I’m wrapping it now, the salve should do wonders,” Regris explained.

“It’s fine. You’re helping me,” Lance reminded. “I shouldn’t complain.”

Regris gave him a steady look, but he didn’t say anything on the issue. Instead, he said, “You called the witch a high elf.”

“Oh, that? It was nothing. Just a dream I had,” Lance said.

“None of your dreams are simply dreams,” Regris replied. “You  _ are _ the Harbinger, after all.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lance snapped. “It feels derogatory.”

“Apologies. Would you prefer Oracle?” Regris asked. Lance sighed and shook his head.

“Augur,” Regris supplied. Lance smiled softly. It only lasted until Regris tugged on the bandage to tighten it however, and Lance hissed. Regris stepped back. “This should be fine. I will remain outside and do my duty, now.”

Once Regris exited, Lance returned his attention to Black.

_ What if Keith doesn’t want to talk to me? _ Shiro’s thoughts crossed into Lance’s mind through Black’s connection. Lance snorted, thinking of Keith lost and wandering in No Man’s Land, searching for answers to his existential questions now that the only man who’d ever cared for him was gone. Lance sent back warm reassurances, but Black informed him that he could not. Lance sighed.

The meaning of love, as Lance had understood it as a child, was to care for someone so intrinsically, that if they were in danger, you would wish yourself in their place just for their safety. At least, that’s what he understood when his Mama tried to give herself to the Galra to keep him from being taken away. As they were parting, his Mama had told him this. Lance had listened, and to this day it was what he believed. He hoped his Mama was still alive.

But it was from this definition that he had realized that he loved the paladins. Each of them. He would gladly give his life to protect Hunk long enough for him to return to the village children he cared for so much. He would take a blade to spare Keith anymore pain, emotional or physical. He would run into the flames to rescue Pidge from her own ambition, and he would rush to Shiro’s aide without armor if he saw him in any danger. But Lance couldn’t do any of this. He could see their futures. And sometimes, he could see other futures as well. He saw their deaths hundreds of times, but everytime he watched their blood soak the soil, the Lion Goddess herself assured him it was only one outcome. And outcome he could stop.

Lance loved the paladins so much. And he loved Shiro all the more now that he could 

hear his thoughts- some of them, anyway. Shiro was rapidly becoming Lance’s hero, a man he felt he could trust with his life. Lance may be willing to take anyone’s pain to spare them of it, but Shiro was determined to stop anyone’s pain from occurring altogether.

_ He would love you too, little cub, _ Black said. Lance laughed a bit. He doubted it. Who could love Lance? He was useless, infuriating, purposefully a chip in the shoulder. That was all he was. Torture for his tormentors.

_ Lies _ , Black insisted.

Lance smiled. Black could think what she wanted. But the only valuable trait Lance had was his third eye.

* * *

 

Shiro and Pidge hid behind the bushes, hoping the Galra couldn’t smell them or something.

“I thought my dad ordered a barrier be placed between the Empire and Terra? Why would Imperial soldiers be leaving Terra?” Pidge muttered to herself. Shiro frowned beside her, his magic arm laying heavy in the grass between his feet, used to keep him in a steady crouch, ready to spring into a run if they needed to escape. Pidge herself was balanced on her toes and knees, her fingertips touched lightly to the ground in front of her.

They’d stumbled across the Galra encampment as Dusk was beginning to settle, just on the other side of a small glade on the way to Terra. The Galra had put up tents for the night, and they were sitting around the fire eating stew. Sitting with his arms bound was a human boy Pidge thought she recognized, but she couldn’t be entirely sure.

He was large, soft, and anxious. The Galra were treating him like a sack of potatoes, too, laughing as they kicked him about every now and then. The boy refused to respond to the jeers, and the violence, but Shiro was muttering some metaphor about poking a sleeping bear, and Pidge kind of wanted to see the boy attack.

Then one Galra soldier spoke up, “Future Yellow Paladin my ass.”

Shiro perked up a bit, paying more attention. Pidge tilted her head, marveling at the coincidence. She side-eyed Shiro for a moment. Maybe not as much of a coincidence as it appeared, however.

“He doesn’t look like a paladin,” The Galra that spoke continued.

“Looks can be deceiving, Straisk,” The only Galra who hadn’t bullied the poor boy said. This one was still stone-cold sober.

Straisk snorted, obviously disagreeing with his companion’s words. He took a swig of whatever drink he had on hand. Pidge figured it must be some strong alcohol to make these men act so foolish. “Look at him! Bet he’d squash the lion he rode! Which one was it supposed to be again, Zhez?”

Zhez snickered, her laugh uncontrolled and her posture loose. “Yellow! At least that one’s supposed to be the strongest!”

“Right!” Straisk chortled. “You know, that old witch really is crazy if she believes in seeing the future.”

“We should just destroy the Halbringer and be done with it,” Zhez agreed.

The only sober soldier frowned at their words. “Harbinger, Zhez.”

“Ah, nobody likes a wet blanket, Krudesz,” Zhez scowled.

“You talk like a traitor,” Krudesz snapped. “Lady Haggar does everything in the name of our Emperor, Lord Zarkon. If you speak against her, you speak against him.”

“Good!” A third inebriated soldier announced. “Zarkon is an old fart! He’s too lost in the Altea of old, the kingdom is developing!”

“Ha! Yeah! And I say, the Empire doesn’t need the paladins alive,” Straisk announced, drawing his sword and pointing it at the human boy. Straisk wobbled on his legs, and his sword swung in a wide arc because his grip was so loose. Even Pidge saw the boy tense.

Several things happened at once. Straisk lunged at the human boy, who threw his entire body at Straisk’s chest, easily avoiding the terribly held blade. The three other drunk Galra leapt to their feet, only to be lunged at by Shiro with his arm made of molten stone. Pidge jumped to action, immediately engaging in a dagger fight with Krudesz.

Pidge didn’t see how Shiro and the boy were doing against the drunk soldiers, as Krudesz was very much sober, and very much capable of giving Pidge the fight of her life. Pidge’s knife was smaller, so she had to get closer, while Krudesz had more of a short sword, the blade being the length of Pidge’s arm from elbow to wrist.

Pidge had the shorter end of the stick. She needed to gain the advantage. With a muttered spell, she swiped her blade at Krudesz’ middle. He dodged, and stumbled a bit. When he turned around to face her again, Pidge’s spell had kicked in. There were five of her.

Krudesz swiped his shortsword at the double who feinted an attack to the right. As the double vanished in thin air, Krudesz was hit in the face with the iron hilt of Pidge’s dagger. Krudesz crumpled and hit the floor.

Pidge leapt back, her doubles quickly leaping about and blurring her position. Krudesz scrambled to his feet, blood smeared over his lips and a wild look in his eyes as he attempted to protect from an attack that could come from anywhere. Pidge muttered a spell, her doubles vanishing in thin air as lightning crackled over her blade. Then she threw the small dagger, and it pierced the soft fabric between the leather breastplate and the pauldron, directly in the armpit.

Krudesz convulsed, the electricity pulsing through his body, before he fell back. Pidge flicked her hand and the blade whisked itself back into her sheath. She’d studied quite a bit of simple combat magic and she was glad it came to greater use in the fight against the Empire than it did simply searching for her brother.

She turned back to Shiro and the boy. Shiro had untied the boys wrists and was currently tying up the Imperial soldiers. The large boy was shuffling his feet and chattering nervously.

“-I mean, I could deal with not being able to go back home, maybe, but like what if the Imperials try to kill my parents, I mean they already broke through the wall once, who knows if they’ll do it again or not, what’s stopping them at this point, and oh my god, that arm’s made of rock, are you okay, what happened, was it-”

“Hey,” Pidge interrupted, and the big guy fell silent. “These guys called you the yellow paladin?”

The big guy nodded, a grimace on his face. “They arrested me because the Harbinger announced me as the yellow paladin. I doubt it’s true.”

“If the Harbinger prophesied it, it’s probably true. I don’t believe in a set future, but I do believe that the gods have an ideal plan,” Pidge said. “That means that the gods have ideal players, too. You’re the yellow paladin.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” The large boy sighed.

“It makes me feel a little better,” Shiro smirked. “The name’s Shiro. Prophesied black paladin.”

“Hunk,” The boy introduced. “Future yellow paladin, I guess.”

“And I’m Pidge. I’m just a magician,” Pidge shrugged. She glanced at Krudesz, groaning on the floor now as he came too. “You know, if they sent a squadron after Hunk, it makes you wonder. Do you think they went hunting for the other paladins too?”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “You don’t think they know where I am, do you? I didn’t think they did, if I knew I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me, I’d never put you in danger, Pidge. Not after Matt-”

“They just might, Shiro,” Pidge interrupted, crouching down and smacking Krudesz lightly. “Hey. Wake up.”

The soldier groaned and opened his eyes. Pidge heard both Shiro and Hunk take defensive stances behind her, but she wasn’t concerned. The Imperial soldier struggled to move for a bit.

“Why can’t I move?” Krudesz demanded.

“Magical paralysis. The electrical current that ran through your body temporarily disabled the nerves that move your muscles. Your body is on lockdown until I get answers and let you go,” Pidge explained. The Galra soldier’s eyes were wide in horror at the idea.

“Oh, that’s scary. Awesome, but scary,” Hunk muttered.

“So,” Pidge said, perching beside the man. “What was your squadron’s job?”

The Galra soldier looked hesitant to speak. “You’ll let me go if I tell you this?”

“I’ll reverse the spell. I won’t make any promises about letting you live,” Pidge said.

“Pidge,” Shiro chastised.

Krudesz looked to be mulling over his choices. Finally, “Lady Haggar ordered us and another squadron to fetch the yellow and red paladins.”

“What about the other three?” Pidge demanded.

“I don’t know,” Krudesz sighed. “All I know is that she sent out two squads. One to Terra, the other to No Man’s Land.”  
“No Man’s Land?” Hunk squeaked. Everyone knew that No Man’s Land was named rather aptly. A land no one could survive.

“That’s where the Harbinger said Keith Kogane was,” Krudesz said. Pidge looked back at Shiro with wide eyes. Shiro looked alarmed, and Hunk  just looked confused, gaze bouncing between the two of them. Pidge looked back to Krudesz.

“What do you know about that mission?” She demanded.

“I don’t know anything else about it, and I don’t want to. What kind of freak survives in  _ No Man’s Land _ ? I’m just glad I’m not one of the sorry suckers that’s going,” Krudesz huffed in a relieved sort of manner. Pidge scoffed.

“Sleep,” She said, waving a hand over Krudesz’ face. He fell unconscious.

“Aren’t you going to reverse the other spell?” Shiro asked.

“Magical paralysis wears off after three hours, sleep wears off after four. He’ll wake up with the ability to move,” Hunk supplied.

“Yes, exactly,” Pidge grinned. “Are you a magician?”

Hunk shook his head. “Nah, I like to work with definite things. Magic’s too unsteady.”

Silence fell over the three of them. Pidge’s thoughts turned to the mystery of the Harbinger. What was protecting Shiro and the other two paladins? Was it the Harbinger itself? Pidge glanced at Shiro, noticing his own gaze drifting into the distance. He was probably thinking of Keith. Was he worried? Pidge could see no reason why he should be.

If the Harbinger saw Keith alive in No Man’s Land, then he was probably alive in No Man’s Land.


	6. The Balmera Will Provide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXPOSITION EXPOSITION! We meet Keith, the Freak who Survived No Man's Land, and it turns out he's just a crazy kiddo who talks to himself and also the gods. We meet Shay, who is amazing and also wants to fight the Galra! Then we go back to Shiro who feels hashtag Old, and Pidge and Hunk aren't helping. Also, magic is interesting, let us debate it as a means to give information to our readers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been made my Nanowrimo story, which means that I kind of reach about the right size for a chapter every day or so...  
> Does anybody even read these? Because I'm putting something crazy in the end notes this chapter.

Keith Kogane stared hard at the oasis. What else could it be, but an oasis? It was a spring of azure water with a simple green island, in the center of a land comprised solely of barren rock, the boundaries of No Man’s Land being marked by a row of volcanic mountains, only dormant for as long as the paladins had been dead. No Man’s Land stretched for empty miles, not a single plant growing among the rock. It was believed, by the tribes that fed on the plants on the outside of the ring of volcanoes, that the Fire Lion ruled this land, and when her paladin passed on, she had killed anything within it. But then why was there an oasis sitting in the center, icy cool blue liquid stretching for a mile in diameter, only interrupted by a whole lump of greenery.

When Shiro was captured by the Galra, Keith was devastated. He’d been lost, directionless, without Shiro to guide him. Keith had had no plan, no dreams. Shiro was all he saw in his future, he cared only for his pseudo brother’s safety and health. Shiro, in turn, cared only for Keith’s safety and health, though he cared for himself as well, to a certain extent. When Shiro vanished, Keith had no one else to turn to. Shiro was it for him. There was no backup plan. So Keith vanished too.

Keith wandered and wandered and eventually got picked up by a nomadic family. A woman and her husband and their dozens of children, who brought along their husbands and wives, with their own dozens of children. They were constantly on the move, hiding their family from Galra captivity. They had once had something of great value, and they refused to be used as playing pieces. They never specified, and they never told Keith their names. He called the eldest woman Mama, like everyone else did, and he called her husband Papa, like everyone else did. All the others were known by chosen nature names, like Rose and Cypress. Keith called himself Kuro, ever considering himself the black to Shiro’s white.

There came a time, though, when Keith couldn’t stay. He was too afraid to stay with them, their kindness to great. He didn’t want to be the reason they were caught by the Galra, and he had reason to suspect that he was cursed to do so. After all, he’d lost everyone to the Imperial dark elves. As they were parting, Mama asked him to always look inside himself for the truth, and the nomadic family left him in a little village only a mile away from the volcanic wall.

That’s when Keith felt it.

He’d felt a tug at his heart. A pull, a tether. Keith followed the feeling, followed the tugging. He’d wandered through No Man’s Land, barely enough food, barely enough water, but whenever he felt he’d collapse from the sheer lacking, something intervened.

The first time he’d been parched, turquoise crystals sprung from the stone and spurted a sweet nectar. It tasted indescribable, but it made Keith think of Shiro. It made Keith think of his long dead father, of the barely there smile he remembered of his mother. The crystals vanished once he’d quenched his thirst. They reappeared whenever he needed a drink.

The first time he’d been starving, the same turquoise crystals crackled over the ground and left in their wake rapidly growing greens. He consumed them quickly, and they reminded him of things he had yet to do. Not actual events, but feelings. Feeling whole, feeling warm, feeling like he belonged. Once Keith had eaten his fill, they also disappeared. They came back whenever he was hungry.

It was a long distance to travel. No Man’s Land was as large as a country. But finally Keith reached where the tugging sensation had been pulling him. Unfortunately, there was no sign of what could have pulled him here, except the pretty blue lake with it’s lush green island. Keith had been stumped for weeks now.

“What do you want from me!?” Keith shouted in frustration towards the skies. Naturally, the sky did not answer. Keith huffed and returned to glaring at the blue water. “Fucking cryptic gods, never giving a damn straight answer.”

A sudden flare of panic stabbed into his chest. Keith whipped his head around to look behind him and saw nothing. He settled back down and glared at the water’s surface thoughtfully. Trying to settle the fear in his heart, he said, “There’s nothing there.”

The silence made him uneasy. “If anyone was there, I’d see them coming at least a day before they reached me.”

The reasoning sounded weak to his ears, and the sudden anxiety did not cease.

* * *

 

The minimalistic temple of the Ancient Tritheistic religion that many a troll still tended to stood empty and abandoned in the sunlight. The gray stone was covered in moss and mushrooms, roots sprouting through many of the cracks. Between the cobblestones of the floor, grass sprouted, the rare daisy sprouted. It was mostly an empty temple. Built for groups to kneel and pray together, with a small pedestal for a natural offering. The pedestal had been removed by the Imperials decades ago, the Empire trying to control the religion and everyone who followed it. Standing at the far wall of the temple, behind the pedestal, was the only grand part of the temple.

Three statues, each accented with a different array of gemstones. The Imperials had tried to remove the stones, but anyone who tried evaporated on the spot. Shay had heard this tale from her grandmother. It was frightening, but it was proof of the existence of the three gods.

On the left, the statue was a woman, tall and graceful, with an elegant face. In the center of her forehead was a large onyx stone, a ruby in her outstretched right hand, an emerald in left fist by her side. On her marble carved belt sat a bright blue sapphire to the right and a brilliant yellow topaz to the left. A lion crest was carved into her breast, and resting over her curls was a lion’s maw, the skin over her shoulders as a cape. The Lion Goddess, a deity of protection and defense. Her power was great, and she had five chosen heroes to help her protect the land of Altea.

On the right, the statue was a man, stout legs but a long torso, a sage expression half hidden by a stringy mustache. He had eight arms, each one holding a turquoise gem cut into a fang-like shape. Around his head sat a crown made up of similar shapes. This god was the Teludav God, a deity of transport, of exploration. His acolytes sought further knowledge, deeper knowledge. He too had great power, though his power had been lost when the Empire had taken over.

In the center stood another statue. The statue looked neither man nor woman, a kind and gentle smile on their face. They held their arms out, as if to embrace the worshippers kneeling before them. They were covered in teal crystals, sparkling and brilliant, from their toes to their chest. Moss had overgrown the statue’s arms, but it did not take away from their impression. They were the third and most important deity, kind and giving, the Giver of Life, known as Mother Nature or Father Time, but to all the trolls who worshipped here known simply by their name: the Balmera.

Shay was knelt down alone today. In the village, the other trolls were tilling the land, farming. Shay had been told stories about what trolls used to be like. They lived in dark dens, exited at night, and they could see in the darkness for miles beyond average human capacity. Years of working through daylight had ruined this advantage, and Shay could barely see the statues in the darkness of the temple. She didn’t dare take a torch and light it, in case the Imperial soldiers who kept them working noticed the loss of materials.

“Balmera, bless our harvest to be bountiful and great. Give the Imperials reason to let us alone,” Shay prayed. She’d heard that trolls had once been animalistic monsters. That the gods of the Tritheistic religion had granted them knowledge. The Balmera gave them the knowledge to survive off the land, the Teludav gave them the knowledge to traverse the land, and the Lion Goddess gave them the knowledge to defend themselves and also make peace.

Shay received no answer, but her heart lifted a bit and she smiled at the stone floor. She glanced up at the Balmera statue, looking at the eyes that had been carved so gently, the face reflecting the care that went into its making and giving the Balmera a kind and loving gaze. Shay’s eyes flickered to the Lion Goddess. Her face was more sharply carved. More violent, yet at the same time, peaceful. Protective, and warm. Shay bowed her head again in prayer.

“Lion Goddes, bless our people with the strength to defend ourselves and our families from the Imperials,” Shay prayed, her tone growing quieter. Never had her family entertained the idea of fighting back, simply the idea of protecting each other by laying low. But as Shay glanced up at the statue of the Lion Goddess again, her eyes caught on the onyx gemstone in her forehead. It filled her with defiance, with a strength she hadn’t realized was in her. A bit louder, Shay pleaded, “Bless our people with the strength to fight back.”

“Shay!” A voice interrupted her prayers, and Shay startled, looking over her shoulder to identify the intruder.

“Rax?” Shay asked, realizing it was only her brother. “I thought you rejected the Tritheistic gods.”

“I do reject them. They have not done us any good. But I knew you would be here, causing our family trouble,” Rax snapped, coming to Shay’s side as she stood.

“The gods can help us,” Shay insisted. “The Balmera blesses our harvest every year.”

Rax glared at the statue of the Balmera. “Our harvest is good because we do our work. If you worked, you would realize this. The gods do not help us because the gods do not exist.”

“But they do!” Shay insisted. “The Lion Goddess has a plan for us, I can sense it. The Balmera will not let their people suffer forever.”

Shay knew from the stories she’d heard her grandmother tell that the trolls had once been known as Balmeran trolls, because of their loyalty and connection to the Balmera. Shay’s grandmother was the only one who shared their history with her. Shay wanted to share it with the world. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to be free of the too bright farmlands they were forced to tend to, she wanted to see the races her grandmother spoke of in those old stories. Shay wanted to see everything. She couldn’t help but feel like the gods were ensuring this.

“We are not Balmeran trolls. Those trolls died with the ages,” Rax snapped, pulling Shay by her wrist out of the temple and back into the too-bright sunlight. Shay looked back at the statues sitting in the dark temple. She couldn’t help but feel like change was coming, and it was coming fast.

* * *

 

“Okay, but seriously, being a magician means you have magic in your blood, it doesn’t mean you choose to use it. So by that definition, you are a magician,” Pidge said logically.

“The only spells I use are healing spells, that’s hardly magic enough to call myself a magician,” Hunk contradicted. “If I said, ‘my name is Hunk, I’m a magician,’ then people would expect magic from me.”

“Times are changing, not everyone’s going to expect you to be some arcane mage just because magic runs through your veins,” Pidge scowled.

“Says the arcane mage,” Hunk snorted.

“Oh, now look who’s making assumptions!” Pidge accused.

“I’m not assuming, I was looking through your bag last night and found your notes. Those are really ancient arts you’re studying, you should be careful. There has to be a reason they were left in the dust,” Hunk warned.

“You snooped through my stuff!?” Pidge shrieked.

Shiro couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics of the two teens he was travelling with. The two of them were almost as thick as thieves after only a couple of days of travelling northward. They’d been debating magic for a couple of hours now, after Pidge had gotten bloody scratches trying to get food and Hunk had healed them with a spell.

Not once had either Hunk or Pidge complained about the harsh travel schedule Shiro had designed. Pidge understood that Keith had to be important to Shiro, and Hunk mostly just worried about the Galra finding them if they stayed in one place too long. Shiro had to admit, that idea concerned him as well.

“Do you two need a break?” He asked. It was the third time he’d asked in that hour alone, but he wanted to make sure that the pace of the travel wasn’t too much.

“For the last time, I’m  _ fine _ ,” Pidge groaned, forgetting her issue with Hunk.

“If I needed a break, you’d know,” Hunk promised. His expression had Shiro wondering if Hunk would ever be able to lie with an expressive face like that.

“We need to take a breather anyway. The sun’s getting low and the last town is hours away, the next is who knows where,” Shiro insisted.

“You’re suggesting camping out?” Pidge asked. “Shouldn’t we head for cover? There’s more trees farther up just a bit.”

Shiro followed Pidge’s pointing finger. Sure enough, there was a little thicket rather than the sparse trees that were scattered throughout the countryside near the roads. “We can camp there.”

“Is no one else concerned about bandits?” Hunk asked.

“Not enough cover in the surrounding areas. It doesn’t matter if the nearest town is hours away, they wouldn’t be able to come and go fast enough to  _ really _ disappear,” Shiro explained, gesturing at the mostly flat terrain all around them. “Nice work, Pidge.”

“I’m a very important person and I have a curious mind. I listened in to my bodyguards when they talked strategy,” Pidge shrugged.

The three of them made their way over to the thicket, where Hunk and Pidge cleared some nettles and laid down the blankets they’d snagged from the Galra several days before. Shiro set about making a fire using a few dry sticks and the heat of his arm. When he’d originally done so, he’d tried to lighten the heavy mood by asking Pidge if this made him a magician. Pidge and Hunk both maintained that no, his stone arm being of the magical sort did not make him a magician.

Again Shiro was reminded that his companions were younger than him, greener than him, had seen less than him, as he contemplated trying to sleep this time. The last few nights, he’d woken Hunk and Pidge with his nightmare, his flashbacks to the arena. He felt a bit trepidatious about sleeping if he would only see more of the blood he spilt and lost. He’d never taken a life, but he knew where failed gladiators went. Where they had all been destined to go. Perhaps he should’ve taken lives, if only to spare the shame.

“Hey, Shiro, come get some sleep,” Hunk called. “Pidge and I can go get dinner by ourselves.”

Shiro shook his head, not even sitting down in the dirt. “I would hate if you guys got hurt without me around to help you.”

“We’ll be fine. Hunk knows minor healing spells, I know minor combat spells. The worst we’ll bump into is maybe a badger,” Pidge explained.

“Badgers can be pretty dangerous,” Hunk muttered. “But we can handle ourselves, Shiro. You haven’t slept well lately. Take some time to relax, at least.”

Shiro sighed, finally sitting down on one of the blankets. “Alright, fine. I’ll take it easy tonight. But be back before sunset, or I’ll go out looking for you.”

“Ooh, scary,” Pidge teased.

“You got it,  _ Dad _ ,” Hunk joked. Shiro shot them both a dirty look, and they giggled before leaving, Hunk with a blade snatched off a Galra soldier, and Pidge with her dagger.

Shiro sighed, laying back on the blanket and staring up at the bright blue sky, the sun sinking lower towards the right, sinking indiscernibly over the azure expanse. Shiro’s limbs cried out in relief, and his eyelids felt heavy. Maybe he was more tired than he’d thought…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMETHING CRAZY! Okay, but seriously! The Teludav god is based on Slav, yes, that was on purpose. Also, yes, that nomadic family that Keith stayed with for a while is Lance's family.


	7. The Use of Feeling Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's novelty has worn off and Haggar is finally sick of him, but Zarkon is still her boss so he gets to live. Then Lance feels Blue wake up! Omg! Ulaz, meanwhile, wants to go save Lance but the Blade is notoriously careful and paranoid. Will Ulaz manage to save Lance before he's moved to a new facility??? Find out next time on: I DREAMT OF HEROES!!!! Also, at the same time, Keith has a sixth sense for evil and a really extensive field of vision, and accidentally wakes Blue up. They don't like each other. It's adorable.

Lance hadn’t been interrogated in days. Regris had been guarding him almost twenty-four/seven while Haggar interrogated Lance’s previous guards instead. Lance had gathered an immunity to the truth potion in a matter of days after she’d first used it, and now she was aware of it. Haggar was likely looking for something stronger. Lance prayed that the Lion Goddess would give him the strength to overcome this one as well.

Lance felt something stirring in the back of his mind. It wasn’t Black, with her enormous presence it was hard for her to become a background though. Shiro’s feelings and emotions played through Lance’s own like a child darting across a field of flowers. Lance could still remember that, from before.

No, the feeling in his mind was more like a nagging sensation, a constant worry. It had left him earlier, but now it was back. Paranoia was beginning to hit him hard. Lance was constantly on edge, every noise from the door had him jumping. He began to fear for whoever was on the other side of that nagging little feeling in the back of his mind.

Lance closed his eyes, trying hard to focus on the feeling, to reach whoever was on the other side. Suddenly the door slid open behind him, and Lance scrambled to see who was entering.

“Boy,” Haggar snarled.

Lance’s blood chilled. She was not in a very good mood. This was not the time to taunt or goad. “Auntie.”

“You’ve become a burden on the Empire,” Haggar announced. Lance’s heart was beating in his throat, and he could find no answer. It seemed that she didn’t expect one, as she went on, “However, Emperor Zarkon has expressed his desire to keep you alive. You could prove valuable with…  _ retraining _ .”

Lance shuddered, unable to restrain himself at the meaning of the words. They’d be torturing him next time. No longer would Haggar use empty threats or truth potions. They’d be using pain to get the answers from him.

“And he has taken my word and realized that this facility is unsecured at this time,” Haggar went on. Lance stared at her, eyes wide in panic. “To keep this… ‘Blade’ organization from kidnapping you, you are being relocated.”

“What?” Lance exclaimed, finding his voice.

Haggar shot him a glare. “Do not speak,  _ boy _ .”

Lance fell silent immediately, looking hard at the stone floor. Haggar snatched his chin, forcing him to look her in her silver eyes. “If I’d had my way, you’d be dead right now. Better that you’re useless to our enemies as well, than only to us.”

There is a time in any person’s life when they have a thought and it scares them more than anything else in the world ever could.  Lance, in this moment, was terrified of himself as a single thought entered his mind. He thought,  _ better to die and save them, than live and betray them _ . He’d never known them. He’d never met them. Except that he had. But he also hadn’t. It was a frightening thing to discover you were willing to die for people you had never met. It was so frightening, for Lance, that tears slipped from his eyes.

Haggar scowled at him, disgusted. “You’re lucky Zarkon still sees a use in you.”

“Where are you sending me?” Lance demanded, on the verge of weeping.

“Where no one would ever think to look, Habringer,” Haggar sneered. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Lance alone to wonder if he’d ever actually meet the paladins and their allies, like he’d hoped as a child. Perhaps he was well and truly alone. Forever.

Suddenly, pain erupted in Lance’s right leg, and he collapsed, gasping. Rushing water filled his ears, ice spread through his veins. He looked around but all he could see was water, endless, blue, water. For a moment he couldn’t breathe- then something rose up from the depths, a lion’s roar echoing through the sea like the cry of some kind of whale.

“B-Blue?”

* * *

 

Kolivan gave Ulaz an unimpressed stare. Ulaz frowned. “I had to do it then, sir, Haggar would have started a search for the Black Paladin and she would soon have been able to decipher the Harbinger’s work. The future of Altea was in jeopardy.”

“You put our entire organization in jeopardy, Ulaz,” Kolivan countered. “You have said yourself in many reports, without us and the freedom fighters, the paladins have no army. The Harbinger itself has been placed into a precarious position due to your rash actions. You have risked its destruction.”

“I have informed you, sir. The Harbinger is a human calf. Not an object,” Ulaz said bitterly.

“The Harbinger is but a medium for the gods to speak. It is something not to get attached to. If you remember, your original assignment was to destroy it,” Kolivan pointed out. “I have given you too much freedom in its handling. Now look what it has brought us.”

“ _ He _ has given us the Black Paladin,” Ulaz argued.

“It has brought us nothing but trouble,” Kolivan ignored Ulaz’s words.

Ulaz seethed. “You will do nothing? The Harbinger has been a great asset for our benefit, even Regris has reported some of his visions back to you, I know it.”

“Regris understands the way of the Blade, Ulaz,” Antok announced, stepping to Kolivan’s defense like the lapdog he was. Ulaz scowled at him.

“The Harbinger is no Blade. He was raised in imprisonment, not as part of our order,” Ulaz snarled.

“The Harbinger is a tool, nothing more. A tool the Blade had lived without before, and a tool the Blade can learn to live without again,” Kolivan said.

Ulaz glowered at the man he had sworn to follow the orders of. “I resign my blade.”

“Excuse me?” Kolivan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I resign my blade,” Ulaz repeated. “I’m going to retrieve the Harbinger myself, and I cannot do so under your order.”

Kolivan and Antok studied Ulaz carefully, curiously. Finally, Kolivan spoke. “You need not resign your blade. I give you autonomy to deal with the Harbinger as you see fit.”

Ulaz gave Kolivan a thankful bow. “You will not regret this.”

“I had better not,” Kolivan grumbled as Ulaz exited the grand hall. Ulaz followed the tunnels lit with small violet lanterns, dim and pale. Ulaz couldn’t help but think of Lance’s dreams of the place. All he could ever seem to describe were the lights. It hurt him to think of Lance’s dreams. How many prophecies had he been forced to share since Ulaz left him? He had dreams every night, didn’t he? Ulaz shouldn’t have left him behind. Did Lance feel betrayed? Left for dead? Ulaz certainly felt as if he’d done so. Betrayed the trust of such a fragile boy. A mere calf.

Ulaz shook his head. He could go back and save him, now. He had the required permission, the required acceptance. Lance would be safe with the Blade of Marmora. Ulaz just had to keep thinking about saving Lance.

* * *

 

Keith stared hard at the horizon. He could see smoke rising into the air and beginning to clump up in the blue sky. The volcanic wall separating No Man’s Land from the rest of the world was far enough that it was rather difficult to see in the distance, but the smoke was clear as day. There wasn’t much that could be being done on the other side of those volcanoes, but Keith could imagine. He’d stayed in a village in that direction. He could picture the fires in their fields. Or maybe their homes. They had been planning to move again once winter came, but that was months from now. They’d expected to have that food during their migration. The village was too far away for him to reach to help and investigate.

People could be dying out there, but Keith was weeks away with no mode of faster transportation. The people needed help, and he couldn’t just watch them go up in smoke and do nothing, even from this distance.

Whatever the gods needed from him could wait.

Distantly, Keith heard something roar. He looked around but saw nothing. The ground began to tremble, and Keith’s eyes went wide, immediately scanning the volcanic wall for any sign of an oncoming eruption. He squinted across the lake, trying to see the faded mountains in the distance.

Ripples began to edge towards the little green island from the outside of the lake. Ripples flowing inward, flowing backwards. The ripples grew larger and larger as they reached towards the small green island, until they turned into waves. The only evidence that the island even existed was in that Keith could see the white foam as the waves crashed over the green sand, and he could hear them too. The waves grew bigger and bigger, until the starting ripples at the edge of the lake were actual waves of their own, reaching three feet into the air. Then, suddenly, a tower of water erupted from the center of the lake over where the island had been, nearly as wide as the entire lake itself, and tall enough that Keith imagined it could disturb the clouds. Keith panicked as soon as he saw the water begin to curb, and he made an attempt to run.

His escape was cut short when an enormous blue monster landed on all fours right in front of him. Keith skidded to a stop and fell to the ground hard on his butt. He stared, wide eyed, at the creature before him. It was a lioness, with a sleek blue tail tipped with an elegant bottlebrush. She had eyes like molten gold, playful and warm. She had a white muzzle and a red spot in the center of her forehead. Across her shoulders was another thick red stripe, and her large paws were white mittens with large silver claws skidding over the volcanic rock of the floor.

“Holy shit,” Keith whispered, too surprised to try and stand.

The Blue Lion roared loudly in Keith’s face, and he pulled back a bit in surprise. The lion sashayed as she walked, maneuvering over his sprawled legs and grabbing his collar in her mouth. “Wha- hey! Hey, don’t-”

Keith cut himself off as the Blue Lion leapt into the air and Keith’s butt never met with the ground a second time. In fact, as Keith watched, the ground was getting farther and farther. He looked up at Blue. Her eyes were glimmering with a sort of smug pride, and- was she smirking? Could lions smirk?

“Yeah, whatever, laugh it up. I still have no idea why the gods wanted me here,” Keith huffed, folding his arms. If Blue was going to tote him across the world like a rowdy kit, then by the Lion Goddess, he was going to act like a rowdy kit. He thanked the gods that he wasn’t afraid of heights as Blue climbed higher into the air, her paws treated nothingness as if it were a staircase.

The volcanic wall was rapidly getting larger, and Keith realized that Blue was actually a lot faster than most forms of travel. He felt stupid for not figuring that a _magical lion sent by the gods_ would be faster than any other mode of transport. Keith sent a silent apology to both the Lion Goddess and the Teludav.  
The Blue Lion began to descend as they neared the edge of No Man’s Land. Three feet off the ground, Blue dropped him. Keith cried out a bit as he scraped his knees and caught himself on his hands. He checked his wrists and palms for any injuries, but the most he saw were a few scrapes. He glanced down at his knees.

“Well, that’s staining,” Keith scoffed, glaring at Blue. She gave him an unimpressed stare. She sidled up beside him. Keith reached for her back, attempting to mount. Blue snarled at him and pranced up the side of the volcanoes. “What, seriously? You’ll carry me around in your mouth, but I’m not good enough to ride on you?”

Blue answered with a loud affirmative purr. Keith scoffed and began the hike up the volcano. Blue was making this look way,  _ way _ too easy. “Just know I hate you monumentally.”

Blue purred, and Keith imagined she was saying something like, “Noted.” She seemed like that kind of special asshole. Gods, Keith hated her so much. Blue promptly disappeared through a passage between two mountains. Keith grumbled as he followed.

He could see fire in the distance, and his thoughts were back on helping as many people as he could. Keith sped up his steps, ready to help in whatever way he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really love Blue how I wrote her and I hope y'all do too. I'm nervous about the whole Blade of Marmora scene, but... eeennnnhhhhh at this point I've given up on accurately portraying anyone. And I finally have a plan, ahaha ahahaha ahahahahahaha!!!!!!!


	8. Thank Father for the Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sneakily slides into a trap that the Galra soldiers set for him without springing it. Then he kills all the soldiers. Blue reveals herself to the Arusians! Meanwhile, somebody abducts Lance and possibly-sort-of-maybe kills Regris! Who could it be!?!?!? Shortly afterwards, Haggar finds a note from a spoiled prince.

Stumbling into the village only a couple of miles from the mountain range was the easy part. Keith had figured, going into this, that there would be a lot of trouble from whoever had started the fires. He’d expected a platoon of men, maybe, a group that would be busy harassing the villagers and he could take a few out before the others noticed. The group of Galra dark elves were in fact only five men. Keith was ducked behind one of the unaffected huts, trying to come up with a plan to separate the five of them so he could take them out without the other’s noticing. In a larger group, it would have been easier. The men would feel safe in their numbers, their guard would be down.

This was not simple.

Blue had disappeared to who knows where, and Keith was on his own. He knew for a  _ fact _ that Blue had powers, probably tied to water based on the whole oasis explosion thing, and that stupid lion was refusing to help. Stupid, fat, blue  _ jerk _ .

Keith put a hand on the hilt of his mother’s blade. He knew it was his mother’s because his dad told him so. It was one of the few memories he still had of his father, probably because he actively remembered it everytime he looked at the weapon and wondered about his mom. This was the only weapon he carried. He didn’t go looking for trouble, usually it found him. Having the sword must have been part of it, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was connected to something bigger than him when he had it. It would be too difficult to try and part with it now. Keith was probably pathetic for growing so attached to something like this.

“Split up,” Keith heard one of the Galra soldiers call out. The villagers, asa many of them as possible, had already run away, scurrying for safety in the wild glades rather than stay in their village and perish. Keith heard footsteps coming his way.  _ Finally _ .

As the footsteps drew near enough, Keith leapt out, brandishing his blade. With no formal training, he still managed to beat most of his opponents. The Galra soldier responded by whipping out their own blade, something long and heavy with a cleft hook at the end. Keith’s lighter weight blade could shatter under something like that, so he didn’t try to block. Instead, he dodged as desperately as he could. A hit from that blade could probably tear through important ligaments. Keith didn’t exactly have healing magic available to him.

Dodge. Strike. Dodge, dodge. Strike. Dodge.  _ Finish him _ . The body fell to Keith’s feet as he yanked the blade back out. The blood was startlingly red on his sword, but Keith tried not to look at it as he ran to find his next opponent.  _ Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it _ .

It became a pattern. He found one soldier with a blade pointed at a villager sprawled on the floor, demanding questions of him. Keith thought he heard the soldier say his name, but he didn’t have time to think. He had to defend these villagers. More dodging, more striking, more blood that he tried not to look at, tried not to think about.

Once five had fallen, Keith heard Blue’s roar fill in the air. He looked up and saw her flying above the village, ice raining down from her tongue and quelling the flames. Of course she waited until he had killed the soldiers to do this. Of course. She was just that kind of uptight righteous asshole lioness.

“Took your time, didn’t you,” Keith scowled. Blue growled at him, her tail flicking playfully. She landed beside him and pushed his head with her paw like he was a disobedient cub. Keith protested as he regained his balance. “H-hey, stop that!”

The villagers who had remained in the village were silent and Keith looked around to see them gathering and gawking at the Blue Lion. She seemed to notice their attention as well, and she stood straighter, preening smugly.

“The Blue Lion,” One villager said in awe. “The Lion Goddess has not forsaken us! The Voltron heroes are reborn!”

The villagers all began murmuring excitedly, and Keith suddenly felt awkward in their presence. The villager who had spoken, dressed in the colors and garb of a leader, walked closer to Keith and bowed low.

“Paladin of Voltron, we are in your thanks,” The leader said. Keith watched, stunned, as all the villagers followed their leader’s example and bowed as well.

“No, I’m not a paladin-” Keith was interrupted by Blue nudging him with her snout hard enough for him to lose his balance. He glared up at her from the floor, only to see her glaring right back. He got the message: Blue considered him a paladin, even if she didn’t consider him  _ her _ paladin.

Keith frowned as he got back to his feet. He turned to the leader of the village. A chief, probably. “It was nothing, really. I just wanted to help.”

“Help us you did,” The chief said in awe as he straightened. “We Arusians will forever remember your heroism today.”

Ah, Arusians. Not the same tribe he stayed with then, but neighbors. Close. Keith nodded, figuring that that was as modest a prize he could receive. “Keep safe. I should be on my way no- ah, Blue!”

Blue had grown impatient with the chatter and had snatched Keith’s collar in her jaws, already prancing off into the air. The Arusians cheered as he flew off, a loud “Hurrah!” following Keith and Blue as they traveled. Blue wasn’t headed back into No Man’s Land, though.

“Where are we going now?” Keith groaned. Blue simply made a low growly rumbling sound around Keith’s collar in her mouth. Keith huffed. He’d never understand her, would he? Keith decided to relax in her hold, she wouldn’t drop him, no matter how much they disliked each other. After all, the gods liked Keith. For whatever reason.

Keith couldn’t  _ really _ be a paladin, could he?

Keith glanced over his shoulder at the frosted village shrinking in the distance. Guess he had plenty of time to think all about the blood on his hands now, huh?

* * *

 

“B-Blue?”

Regris’s eyes widened as he heard the word. He’d just been entering the room to check on Lance, trying to be sure he didn’t need medical attention after Haggar’s visit. There, kneeling on the floor clutching at his right leg, was the Auger, blue eyes wide and not with Regris in the tiny bedroom.

“Auger?” Regris called, tentatively stepping closer to the boy.

Lance made a choked noise, and Regris rushed forward. He gripped the boy by his shoulder, and suddenly Lance gasped, eyes refocusing and lashes fluttering. His breathing was heavy, and Regris felt uneasy watching him swallowing breath like he’d been without it too long.

“What happened?” Regris demanded.

“I- the Blue Lion- she was- where am I?” Lance looked around, dazed.

“Where you always are,” Regris said. “Your quarters.”

Lance’s eyes dimmed a bit as he recognized the room around him. “Oh. For a moment there, I thought… I felt like I was, anyway… I thought I was free.”

“You weren’t breathing,” Regris explained, studying Lance’s blank face. He repeated, “What happened?”

“There was… endless water. Everywhere. I thought I might drown, but then Blue showed up, and… then I was free? No, she was free. Somehow, she woke up. She found a paladin, but I don’t know which-” Lance cut himself off, staring hard at the floor.

“What is it?” Regris asked.

Lance blinked, looking up at Regris. The two stared at each other in silence, Lance likely thinking about whether or not he wished to share. “I think it was Keith. I think he woke her up, but I don’t know how, he’s not her paladin.”

Regris couldn’t exactly call himself an expert in the work of the gods. He was far more in the dark than the Lion Goddess’ medium. He wasn’t even a high ranking officer in the Blade, having only recently begun working his way up in the ranks. This temporary promotion was unexpected, and mostly a waste of his time. Not to mention he could feel himself growing increasingly worried for the young calf.

Regris had no idea how to help the Auger figure it all out.

“I must return to my post,” Regris announced, getting to his feet. Lance looked up at him, looking a bit distracted.

“Hm? Oh. Go ahead,” Lance muttered, turning his gaze to the ground as he thought about everything that weighed on his shoulders at this point. Regris frowned thoughtfully and stepped out of the room, settling back into his post.

Regris went to lock the door when a blade hit the wood beside his hands, pinning the key ring rather effectively. Regris immediately turned, ready to attack whoever it was trying to get to the Auger. He saw no one, and he lowered his blade slightly to get a better look at his surroundings.

Regris stepped out further into the hall, his eyes darting to and fro in search of the intruder. Suddenly a searing agony speared through his abdomen, and Regris let out a wounded shout, guttural and choked in its desperation. Whatever blade had sunk into his muscles was yanked back out, and Regris collapsed to the floor, breathing heavy and heart rate fast.

Something nudged Regris’ side, and he gasped as the movement irritated his wound. Whatever nudged him, perhaps a boot, shoved him onto his back. The lights had grown far too bright now, everything disturbing his head.

Everything came into focus as a girl leaned over Regris, her eyes large and blue, her hair tied back in a long ponytail, and a smug grin on her lips. She waved the key ring over Regris’ head. “Thanks for this!”

A foot pressed hard against Regris’ wounded side and he cried out as the pressure shot pain all through his muscles. White stars flashed through his vision. His head felt light, he couldn’t feel his fingers.

Regris had one final coherent thought.

_ Whatever that blade’s done...  it’s worse than I thought _ .

* * *

 

Haggar’s blood boiled as she examined the scene before her. The Harbinger’s quarters were empty, the door ajar. Sitting in the hall outside was a pool of blood, but no sign of the wounded. It could be anyone’s blood, it could even be the Harbinger’s. Haggar gnashed her teeth, needing an outlet for her rage.

“Lady Haggar?” One of the soldiers behind her said, tentatively attempting to ask for guidance. Haggar snarled, blasting the insufferable fool with a bolt of black lightning. He fell dead to the floor, leaving only one soldier standing, violet face turned pale at Haggar’s display of rage.

“Find Regris. He was on guard,” Haggar snarled.

“Yes, ma’am,” The soldier said. The soldier didn’t move and Haggar growled.

“Now!” She shouted. The soldier ran off to do her bidding. Haggar turned to the pool of blood, kneeling down beside it and dipping her fingers in it. She sniffed the blood. Fatal wound. Someone had taken the body, then. Haggar stood up and stepped over the pool, entering the Harbinger’s chambers. A stray slip of paper lay on the bed, and she walked over to it.

Haggar picked up the note and scanned it over, her frown deepening as she read it.

_ Thank Father for the gift, Witch. -Lotor _

Haggar seethed, throwing the note back onto the mattress. She stormed from the room, shouting for guards. Four came running to her in response.

“Send out a platoon, a squadron, anything, but  _ find _ Prince Lotor and bring him to me by  _ any means necessary _ !” Haggar shrieked. “The insolent boy has made himself to be a traitor to his father’s Empire!”

In the shadows lurked one man, a limp and hastily bandaged body in his arms. As the witch and her men cleared the hallway, Ulaz slipped back into the torchlight and checked the withering pulse of his fallen comrade.

“Keep on, Regris,” Ulaz murmured. “Keep on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OoOoOoOoOohhhhh! What's Lotor up too! Anyway, the whole Lotor thing is probably going to disappoint people. I just wanna say in advance that Lotor confuses me SO MUCH, so that's why I may have trouble writing him. I already have SO MUCH OF THE TROUBLE writing this fic, bleh, but I love it so I keep writing.  
> Also, this is probably the worst chapter, I'm so sorry.


	9. The Harbinger's Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has been kidnapped! Or has he been saved? Also, Keith and Blue still don't quite get along, but he enjoys her company. Also, Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge are still wandering through the countryside! Finally, Lance meets Prince Lotor, who offers him freedom on a silver plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOREWARNING! My portrayal of Lotor may be horrible, who knows? I don't. Again, Lotor confuses the hell out of me, so I don't know how I'll do writing him.

Lance’s struggles were a practice in futility as he tried to fight off the women who had abducted him from his bedroom. He was weaker than most dark elves as a human already, but the fact that he’d never been allowed outside of his bedroom for much other than the gladiator battles meant he’d never really gained all that much strength. This made him effectively weaker than a typical dark elf child.

The two women easily dragged him outside of the palace grounds, where he promptly stopped fighting them when he saw the stars. He never thought he’d see them in person again, and when he saw the twinkling things he’d frozen. The women had let him go, but all he managed to do was fall to the grass and sprawl into it, feeling it on his skin, staring at the stars, tasting the outside air.

Two other women joined the first two, one large and muscular, the other wearing a strip of cloth over her eyes, a cat perched on her shoulders.

The larger woman hoisted Lance over her shoulder, where he promptly began struggling again. She had even less trouble than his first two captors had had. One of the women, the one that wouldn’t stop grinning and had her long hair tied back in a colorful ponytail, told him, “If you don’t shut up, the old witch is going to find us. Imagine how much trouble you’ll be in then.”

That had effectively quieted Lance as he pictured Haggar’s ranchor if she caught them. He let them take him after that, no struggle, no fuss. Anything would be better than Haggar and the torture she was planning. He just hoped that whoever he was stuck with now wasn’t also trying to kill the paladins. It would suck if these women also wanted to kill the closest thing he had to friends. Lance was sure he recognized these women, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He spent most of the night unable to sleep because he couldn’t place their faces. When he finally slept, he dreamt again.

He dreamt of the paladins, fierce and bold on the backs of their lions, brave and strong. He dreamt of Coran, ever at their side. He dreamt of himself, calling out for people who had never known him, and perhaps never would.

 

* * *

 

Blue had chosen to drop Keith in the middle of a forest. Did he already tell her he hated her? Maybe he should point that out again. Blue was sauntering ahead of him, her body turning incorporeal to walk straight through trees rather than simply walk _around_ them like a _normal_ lion. Keith dodged plants and bugs and only he’d nearly been bitten by a snake.

Blue looked back at him, her surprisingly expressive face looking unimpressed. She snorted slightly, and Keith felt she was saying something like, “You are really pathetic.” Well, excuse him for not being a magic lion! He didn’t have her magical endurance, or her powers! Unlike her, he needed to eat, sleep, drink, and relieve himself. It was easier to do in the forest than it would have been in No Man’s Land with the Balmera’s blessing, so he’d been effectively abandoned by that particular deity.

At this point, Keith was reasonably sure that Blue (and he hated admitting this) was probably the only god associating with him right now. He also hated admitting that maybe he had missed having a companion around, and maybe Blue’s habit of treating him like a cub was starting to grow on him. Particularly last night, their first evening spent together. Blue had pressed him up against her side for warmth and refused to let him leave. It had been annoying when he needed to pee at midnight, but most of it was really soothing. When he’d woken up, it’d been because he’d burrowed so deeply into her underbelly’s fur that he was beginning to have trouble breathing.

That had been embarrassing, and Blue seemed to be teasing him all morning. But now she was simply behaving Holier Than Thou, which was perhaps even more frustrating. But it didn’t matter. Keith couldn’t abandon this opportunity. He’d asked the gods what they wanted from him, and they had answered. In the form of an annoying blue lion, even. Which meant this had to be important.

At an enormous boulder, Blue pranced up to the top. Keith tried to climb after her, but suddenly she took off into the air.

“Hey- wait!” Keith shouted. “Blue!”

It was too late, though. She’d flown off through the canopy and he could not follow. Keith’s heart sank. Had he not _just_ been thinking about how he couldn’t waste this chance to finally do what the gods wanted?

Keith needed to think of something, some plan for what to do next now that his destiny literally took off without him. He dropped back down to the forest floor and examined the trees around him. He needed some kind of sign. He leaned against the boulder with a sigh.

Then he yelped as he fell through the rock face and into a dark cavern. He sat up and tried to feel for the exit in the darkness, but found none. Just a wall of solid rock.

Keith’s eyes strained to adjust faster to the dark. He blinked twice, but he didn’t need too. As he used the wall to help himself get back to his feet, the path before him began to glow a soft teal color. It was a staircase, spiraling down to who knows where. Keith tentatively took a couple of steps down.

He heard something, sweet and melodious, echo from deeper below. Keith glanced over his shoulder but he saw no sign of the exit. Might as well go the only way available then. Down it was.

Keith really hated the Blue Lion.

* * *

 

Hunk skinned a rabbit beside the fire that Shiro had built when they’d woken. Pidge was sharpening her blade between a small boulder and her whetstone. Shiro had gone out to get a second rabbit.

A couple of days ago, Hunk had managed to catch a deer unawares. Unfortunately the trio had to satisfy themselves with setting snares for rabbits, rather than actually hunting their food. None of them had a bow, which was truly unfortunate.The only reason Hunk had caught and killed the deer was because he was lucky. And because Pidge had been testing spell combinations to make someone move entirely soundlessly. Hunk hadn’t been able to speak for a couple of hours as it wore off, but they had a pleasant meal.

“Hey, Pidge, testing any spells today?” Hunk asked.

Pidge looked up, surprised at being addressed after the long hour of silence. “What? Oh! Yeah, nah. I shouldn’t be messing with any complicated spells, and I’m still working out the kinks on most of the more basic combinations. Thanks for asking, though.”

“No problem. Hey, was your brother a magician, too?” Hunk asked idly, unwilling to return to the silence now he had Pidge’s attention.

“Matt? Yeah. We got it from my dad. Matt prefered studying magical plants to spells, though. He was going to go to school to study brewing,” Pidge explained, moving over to sit beside Hunk.

“I don’t see what beer has to do with magic,” Hunk smirked.

“ _Potion_ brewing, Hunk,” Pidge grinned.

“Ah, magical beer,” Hunk teased. Pidge laughed.

“What about you? You don’t talk about your family much,” Pidge said.

“Ah, right. I just don’t want to get wrapped up in missing them. I’m more than willing to talk about them, though,” Hunk offered.

“Do you have any siblings?” Pidge asked.

“Nope,” Hunk laughed a little awkwardly. “But I take care of all the little kids in our section of the city, and I have since I was ten. They’re pretty much my younger siblings.”

“That sounds like a lot of trouble. I know I was a pain in Matt’s neck, and I’m just one person,” Pidge snorted.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you were a pain in the neck that he loved. Love makes trouble seem all the more simple,” Hunk explained warmly. “At least, that what my moms say.”

“Oh, so you have two moms?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah, my mom and my mama,” Hunk nodded.

“So what happened to your dad?” Pidge inquired, eyebrows furrowed.

Hunk laughed, putting the chunks of rabbit meat into the stew he was cooking over the flames. “I dunno. Mom never talked about him and I never asked. I never needed to.”

“That makes sense,” Pidge shrugged, staring at the cooking broth.

Hunk nodded, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The two of them sat in companionable silence, the sun rising above them, the warmth growing, and the glade hiding them from view. It was a warm, friendly silence, and as Hunk stirred the stew, mixing in spices and herbs they’d bought at the last town, Pidge started whittling absentmindedly. She wasn’t any good, but Shiro had shown her some pointers to help her keep occupied.

Shiro was sort of overprotective. When he went out to hunt, he made them stay together at the camp. He told them to never leave the camp without each other. When Hunk went out to hunt, Shiro made Pidge go with him. He trusted them together, but it seemed he didn’t trust them while they were apart.

It was no bother, for Hunk. He’d hate to be alone at any point. He may be stronger than most, but he was also hilariously unprepared for a fight of any kind. Bandits would have the upperhand, as would a wild animal. Having Pidge at his side, with all her studied combat magic, was soothing.

Pidge, however, was clearly rankling. She hated being coddled, it made her feel as if she were some kind of porcelain doll. Hunk had heard stories of her attempts at escaping her bodyguards, and he honestly felt bad for them. She’d almost succeeded a total of eight times, and Hunk knew that must of been rather trying for the poor guards. If Hunk had been her bodyguard, he likely would have gained a rather high blood pressure.

A twig snapped in the trees, and Hunk startled. Pidge held up her knife, ready to throw it. Hunk whispered to her, “Do you think it’s Shiro?”

“Maybe,” Pidge murmured. “Shiro! Is that you!?”

Shiro emerged from the trees, some meat hanging from his stone hand. “Yeah! I got a rabbit, Hunk, skinned it as best I could on the go.”

Pidge grumbled, lowering her knife and continuing to whittle. “Hunk’s got me all paranoid.”

“Hey, it’s not paranoid, it’s cautious! The world is a dangerous place,” Hunk protested.

“Play nice, guys,” Shiro chuckled, tossing Hunk the rabbit meat. Hunk immediately got to chopping it into small chunks. “So what are you carving, Pidge?”

“A bird,” Pidge muttered. “Working on animation, remember?”

“Oh yeah, you tried that out yet?” Shiro asked.

“Not quite yet,” Pidge sighed. “I’m still missing some steps. Hunk was right when he said that the art of animation is considered arcane. I’m surprised your arm is animate.”

“I said that?” Hunk asked. He couldn’t remember when he could’ve said so, but if Pidge remembered it that way, he supposed he’d said so. Pidge snorted, a smile on her face. Shiro’s lips quirked in his own special invisible smile as well.

Hunk dumped the rest of the meat into the pot and stirred. Shiro went to lie down on one of the blankets, rolling it out and staring at the morning clouds. Pidge went back to whittling out the little bird, and Hunk sighed, having been virtually left alone with his thoughts.

When finally the stew had finished, Hunk ready to pour it into separate bowls, a twig snapped, and the three travelers were immediately on edge. They’d had no real run-ins with the Imperials, but after the whole mess with the guards that got Hunk stranded out here, all three of them had been hyper vigilant.

A growl came from the trees, and Hunk felt fear grip his heart. Pidge lifted her blade and got into a ready stance, Shiro falling into a similar stance in front of them, ready to protect. Hunk lifted his stolen blade nervously, unsure of himself.

What emerged from the thicket was not exactly what Hunk expected. A lioness with sleek blue fur, a white muzzle and mittened feet, red across her face and over her shoulders, and her eyes a molten gold. Like a wreath around the base of her neck was a dark blue mane, elegant and beautiful.

Pidge gave a loud, low whistle. Hunk had to admit he agreed with the sentiment. Shiro was the first to speak.

“The Blue Lion…”

* * *

 

Lance woke up in a strange place. There was grass beneath his legs, the sun high in the sky above him. Actual fluffy white clouds speckled the baby blue expanse, and just down a slight slope from where Lance was sat lay an entire meadow of golden sunflowers. Surrounding the meadow were huge trees, beautiful and large and stretching up to the sun as best it could. The sun warmed Lance’s cheeks, and he grinned. He ran his hands through the patches of clover, an old faded memory driving him to look for one with four leaves.

“Ah, you’re awake,” A voice said. Lance startled, scrambling to get up. He’d barely made it to his knees when he caught sight of his company, watching him with an amused smirk.

“Who are you?” Lance demanded, noting the pale violet pallor to the man’s skin. His eyes, however, weren’t the usual crimson of a dark elf. Instead, they were pale and silver, clear rings that made Lance shiver a bit under the man’s gaze.

“Ah, of course you wouldn’t know of me. I am Prince Lotor,” The man introduced. Lance’s eyes widened. Lotor was Emperor Zarkon’s son. Even if Lotor had been banished to the edge of Altea because of his halfbreed status, he was said to be every bit as cruel as his father. Lotor chuckled, though there was no humor in his laugh. Bitterly, he said, “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Lotor seemed to be waiting for a response, but Lance could find no answer. He looked away and nodded, unable to keep his gaze on the man. Lotor sighed. “I should hope you wouldn’t judge me by the stories spread by my father’s fearmongers.”

“What else is there to judge you by?” Lance demanded, not thinking before he said it. He stood up, brushing himself off from the grass. “Should I judge you by how you had your cronies kidnap me?”

“My generals saved you. My father’s pet witch would have sent you to Beta Traz, a tower prison only she and the Warden know of,” Lotor explained coldly. “Would you rather have rotted in a room no wider than you are tall? Would you rather have been tortured for your abilities every day? I’d be willing to return you into the witch’s captivity if you pre-”

“No!” Lance exclaimed.

Lotor smirked. “Exactly. Now, would you like to follow me into the fortress?”

Lance glanced at the large stone building Lotor was referring too. It was daunting how large it was, and it reminded Lance of the castle he’d just been abducted from the previous evening. Lance glanced to the meadow down the hill, the trees surrounding it, the bright blue sky with a glittering sun.

“Ah, how silly of me. I do give my solemn word that you will have total freedom within the fortress. You may even leave at any point if you so wish. You are not my prisoner,” Lotor announced. Lance’s skin crawled with suspicion.

 _I don’t trust him_ , Black snarled. Blue agreed loudly, her presence crashing into Black’s lovely sky with all the force of a typhoon.

“What do you mean I ‘may leave at any point’?” Lance demanded.

“You may leave the fortress, leave me. You can go off into the world right now, if you so like,” Lotor explained. “I will not try to stop you.”

Lance felt exhilaration run through his blood. Had Lotor just given him exactly what he’d been dreaming off for the past twelve years? Lance’s heart was beating quickly, his spirits soaring. Black and Blue insisted it had to be a trick of some sort, so Lance looked back into Lotor’s face to check.

“I could go whenever I want? I could leave right now?” Lance asked.

“Certainly,” Lotor said easily, smiling. “Though I wouldn’t leave dressed like that just yet. Would you like to freshen up?”

Black and Blue were telling him to just go, run as fast as he could, but Lance hesitated. Haggar had kept him in robes similar to her own, and underneath that he wore only a tunic and some trousers. The idea of clothes that didn’t connect him to Haggar or her druids was tempting, much more tempting than trying to make his way through the world all on his own. Quietly, he murmured, “Yes, please.”

Lotor’s smile widened, and Lance thought he saw a flash of malintent, but it was gone before he could make note of it. Lotor took Lance by the hand and guided him to the fortress. Lotor’s hand was warm and comforting. It wasn’t a hand aiming to hurt him, and it wasn’t a hand trying to heal his wounds, it was just there. Lingering.

Lance had to try not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something vaguely shippy about how I wrote the Lotor bit... Crap.


	10. The Halfbreed Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor is a confusing butt and Lance is confused! Also, no, he isn't flirting. Meanwhile, Blue is treating her future leader like a kit while she can! And she might favor Pidge and Hunk, but shoosh. Also meanwhile, Keith gets sad and lonely!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Nalquod Falls, please enjoy your stay. Lotor still confuses the hell out of me, argh!

Lance hadn’t had a bath in ages. While he was with Haggar, the most he got was a bucket over his head and a soapy cloth ran over his skin by servants who made him uncomfortable. Today, though, he sank into a real tub, porcelain and gold. It was made for a prince, after all. Lance took his time washing his skin, scrubbing grit and dirt out his skin and from under his nails on both his hands and feet. He managed to wash his hair thrice, and on the third turn realized that it was growing rather long, the water weighing the curls down to hang to his shoulders.

After an hour, one of Lotor’s generals (Ezor? She had her hair pulled back in a colorful ponytail, and the only sign that she was part dark elf was the tiny bright red splotches in her huge blue eyes) came in with a bathrobe and told him to put it on so they could decide what he was going to wear.

When Ezor took Lance to the walk in closet, he announced that he’d died and ascended. Ezor had laughed and told him to pick something. All the clothes was likely Lotor’s, officially, as it all looked to be fit for a prince. Eventually, Lance settled on a casual but elegant number. It was one of the only things Lance found that was white, rather than a deep violet or black. It reminded him of the paladins, in their shining armor, and their beautiful lions. A white elegant shirt with a silver jerkin, the trousers being a pale gray.

It fit Lance well, and Ezor complimented him. He blushed fiercely at her words, no matter how mild. Lance wasn’t used to compliments, after all. Then he slipped into a pair of brown boots and followed Ezor to see Lotor.

Now Lance was seated to the right of the head of a long table, Lotor sitting at the head with his hand resting over Lance’s, making the boy’s face warm with unease. Black and Blue were also uneasy, and Lance could feel their discomfort chilling his blood.

“Do you remember much of your life before the witch locked you away?” Lotor asked.

Lance was taken aback, never having had someone ask. “Some things.”

“Like what?” Lotor asked. “I hope you don’t mind my asking. I didn’t have the most normal of childhoods.”

“Um, I remember all of my family’s names,” Lance mumbled. “Or at least, the ones that were born before… my  _ gift _ ... was realized.”

“Oh, is that all?” Lotor asked, sounding disappointed. Lance’s face burned in embarrassment.

“N-no. I just- I didn’t want to forget, so that’s the most important thing,” Lance insisted.

“Then what else do you remember?” Lotor prompted. The hand that was resting over Lance’s slipped under and clutched the boy’s hand closer to Lotor.

“I-I remember Veronica liked to dance in the meadows.She loved flowers. She was always running around in them,” Lance began, his speech stuttered.

Lotor hummed. “She sounds like a lovely girl. Younger sister?”

“No, I’m the youngest,” Lance murmured. “Veronica’s...”

Lotor waited patiently, but Lance didn’t finish his sentence. Finally, Lotor prompted, “How much older is she?”   


“I don’t remember,” Lance whispered, feeling panic spike in his chest. Why couldn’t he remember how old she was? She’d been older than him, but by how many years? Three? Two? Maybe five? His memories of her were so scattered, he was missing a sense of order to them, he couldn’t place them chronologically against his own age.

Blue and Black were purring at him, trying to calm him down. Lance’s skin tingled as if the lions were with him, trying to physically soothe him. Lotor’s thumb rubbed little circles into Lance’s hand, and Lance snapped out of his panic, confusion flooding his senses instead. “Why are you treating me so nicely?”

“You’re a person, Lance,” Lotor said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m treating you the way you deserve.”

“And- and you’re not just trying to get inside my head because of my special gift?” Lance demanded.

Lotor’s generals, all sitting at the other end of the table talking amongst themselves, had definitely heard this comment and found it absolutely hilarious. Their laughter was loud and boisterous and made Lance’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. Lotor, however, just looked sad. He leaned over the table and put an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “I am sorry that you would even have to ask such a thing.”

“Lotor’s got no use for seeing the future,” Ezor announced, proud and bragging. “He already has four top spies getting all the information he needs to predict it himself.”

“Really?” Lance asked warily, studying Lotor’s face.

“Really, really. I honestly only rescued you to put a kink in my father’s plans,” Lotor explained. “I never liked him much.”

Lance could see no visible signs of deception, but his own instincts were screaming alongside Black and Blue not to trust this guy. Lotor’s hand moved towards Lance’s face, and he flinched. Lotor’s hand froze in mid air.

Lotor chuckled. “I’m sorry, I only meant to push your hair back. The curls are covering up your face.”

Lance’s face burned hot once again as Lotor completed the action he’d just described. Lance stayed as still as a statue, barely daring to breathe as the man tucked the drying curls behind Lance’s ear. As Lotor pulled back, Lance blurted, “Are you flirting with me?”

This time, as his generals -spies?- burst out in laughter, Lotor joined them. Lance’s entire body felt warm from the mortification. Once the five of them had settled down, Lotor said, “My apologies that you haven’t had enough pleasant company to know when a man is being friendly as opposed to seductive. Believe me, if I was attempting to court you, you would be well aware.”

“Oh,” Lance mumbled. Black and Blue growled as Lotor leaned into Lance’s space and made him even more uncomfortable.

“Did you want me to flirt?” Lotor asked, voice low.

Lance pulled away, shaking his head. “No.”

“Then I wouldn’t,” Lotor assured. “Eat up, it may grow cold.”

Lance glanced down at the plate before him. He picked up the fork beside the plate and dug into his meal. Flavor burst on his tongue, a warm sort of tangy taste that made Lance moan joyfully.

Lotor smirked as Lance shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth.

* * *

 

Shiro could hear laughter echoing through his head. It wasn’t Pidge or Hunk, because they had stopped snickering ages ago, from their comfortable seats upon Blue’s sleek back. Besides, the sound wasn’t coming from outside his head. Shiro was probably going crazy. It made the most sense, to him. This whole thing could be a crazy man’s illusion.

The laughter stopped and was replaced by a visual of a tornado, rage that wasn’t his rising under Shiro’s skin.  _ This is real _ .

Gods, Shiro didn’t understand what was happening! He yelped as Blue shook her head, and him with it. Hunk and Pidge burst out laughing again.

“Stop laughing,” Shiro groaned.

“I wish I could immortalize this moment with some sort of visual recording device,” Pidge snorted.

“Too bad you’ll just have to write it instead,” Hunk grinned. Shiro heard Hunk snap his fingers. “Unless, you could craft a spell for that!”

“Craft a spell for what? Creating physical still-copies of real life occurrences? Sounds impossible, Hunk,” Pidge huffed. “Maybe I can commit this to memory and paint it, later.”

“You’re a terrible painter,” Shiro reminded.

“Then I’ll commission it! Not hard in this day and age,” Pidge reminded, her voice light and chipper and teasing.

“Were you this mean to Matt?” Shiro asked.

“Meaner,” Pidge announced, and Shiro could almost hear her grin. The Blue Lion made a growling sort of laugh sound around her mouthful of Shiro’s cloak. He tightened his grip on the fabric, worrying again that it would slip off and he’d plummet to his death.

“Try not to drop me,” Shiro pleaded. Blue made a noise like she was offended. Pidge burst into fresh laughter.

“Wait, actually, that’s a valid concern,” Hunk pointed out. Shiro made a mental note to praise the gods for sending someone like Hunk into his life to talk sense into wild flying lions and laughing magicians. “Could we please land so we could figure out a better way, big, blue, lioness creature?”

Blue made a dissatisfied sort of groan and went into a nosedive. Hunk started screaming, Pidge shrieked, and Shiro was sure his spirit had left his body, ready to make a break for the afterlife. Blue stopped abruptly, only a few feet off the floor and dropped Shiro to the ground, where he fell in a stunned heap on the floor.

Shiro could only stare blankly at the sky as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. Had he seriously just lived through that? Blue was crazy! They could have died!

“I’m not getting back on her back!” Hunk announced, and Shiro’s attention snapped to the two minors he was traveling with.

“You couldn’t  _ pay _ me to get back on your back! Wherever you’re taking us, I’ll take my chances walking,” Pidge was addressing the lion. Blue huffed, her nostrils flaring. Her entire attitude read “Babies,” so well that Shiro started to laugh.

“Great, we lost Shiro to hysteria!” Hunk exclaimed.

“No,  _ you’re _ hysterical,” Pidge snapped. “Get a grip, both of you!”

Shiro couldn’t stop laughing. Everything about his life had become ridiculous. He was now the leader of a magical group of warriors that was supposed to take Altea back from Emperor Zarkon’s clutches! They were supposed to ride magical lions with rainbow colored coats and elemental abilities! And this was all only known because some kid in Galra captivity could see the future! Maybe he was  _ dead _ , because no crazy man could come up with something so ridiculous.

Pidge slapped him.  _ Hard _ . He stopped laughing and met her glare. “You’re scaring Hunk.”

Shiro grinned. “Sorry. This is just… All of this is so ridiculous.”

“Sure it is,” Pidge shrugged. “It’s destiny. Now, come on, Blue’s anxious to get going.”

Shiro looked at the Blue Lion, who looked like an irritated kitten, her tail swishing and twitching. “Right. Let’s go then.”

The lot of them began hiking off towards what looked to be a large forest, tall trees extending up into the sky. In the distance beyond was an enormous waterfall, and some cliffs. It looked so picturesque, so beautiful, it set Shiro’s nerves at ease. He hadn’t even known they needed to be eased, but there he was, the most relaxed he’d been in years as he stared at one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

Keith would love this view. And just like that, Shiro’s worries returned, like a cruel summer’s creeping heat after a lovely spring’s showers. Shiro had no idea that he did not need to worry, for he had no idea what Keith was currently up to.

* * *

 

If Shiro had known what Keith was doing, he’d likely have been able to put his concerns to rest. Keith was safe, protected, and currently not that far away, though neither of them was aware.

The stairs had led to a portal with the markings of Teludav inscribed on them. Keith vaguely remembered his father telling him stories about the Teludav portals, telling him that they’d all been destroyed by the Galra centuries ago. Before even daring to step through the portal, Keith had made a quick prayer to Teludav himself, so that he would get to wherever the gods wanted him to go. He also prayed to the Lion Goddess and apologized for doubting her lion. But really, if she didn’t want people to doubt her lions, she should train her lions to stop being so damn annoying.

Anyway, that was how Keith had found himself wandering the halls of an enormous palace. Wherever he stepped, the torches in their sconces flared up and shed their blue light so that he could see where he was going. The walls were made from the finest stones Keith had ever seen, slabs so large he didn’t see the seam for several meters. When Keith had exited the castle, he’d discovered that it was behind an enormous water fall, the water coming down so hard and fast that it must have been one belonging to a major river.

Whatever the gods wanted Keith to find was hiding in plain sight. There was no way the Galra didn’t know about this waterfall. The stream was too heavy to be any regular old stream, so Keith figured this must be Nalquod River, where water nymphs of all kinds were put to work purifying and packaging drinking water for the kingdom. So then this was Nalquod Falls.

Nalquod Falls was miles from No Man’s Land, nearly on the other side of Altea. Why was he here? What was hidden here? Could it be another lion? If so, why was he the only one retrieving the lions?

A wave of despondency washed over Keith’s head as he watched the waterfall stream down from far above. He had never felt more alone than he did in this moment. Sure, he’d been alone several times before. But now, faced with a destiny that seemed to be just as lonely, just as alone, he felt far more hopelessly alone. His blood felt colder, and he rubbed his arms for warmth, curling into himself.

If he missed Blue a little more than he had before, legend may never tell.


	11. Release of the Manticore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we meet Princess Allura! It turns out one Prince Reon could see the future as well, and that was ultimately his demise. Blue practically raised Allura, shush. Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge discover the Castle of the Lions behind a magical waterfall. Keith meets the other paladins of Voltron.

Princess Allura was ten when she met the Paladins of Voltron. Her mother told her that they’d all been present for her christening, seeing as she was the Red Paladin’s daughter, but Allura had never known them herself. She wasn’t even supposed to be meeting them today. But Allura was never one to follow the rules, and the paladins were finally meeting in the Capital, rather than her father leaving to go meet up with them at one of the other major cities, or occasionally, their hidden palace in the woods.

Coran was present at every meeting, and he told Allura all about them later, and the adventures the Paladins had defending the kingdom from criminals and monsters. Coran never told her which forest the Castle of Lions was hidden in, or at least, he told her a different forest everytime she asked. When she’d finally demanded the truth as a teenager, Coran told her that the god, Teludav, teleported the palace everytime the paladins left, and revealed the whereabouts to them only the next time they had to visit. But for now, little ten year old Allura still had no idea of the truth of the mysterious palace. Nor did she know much about the paladins themselves.

Coran told her of their brave feats, but she didn’t know who they were. She only knew of their personalities, not their identities. She heard their names countless times in Coran’s stories, but she had no faces, no traits, to connect to each name. She could only guess at which paladin was which, in fact, as Coran had yet to properly introduce them in his stories.

So little Allura was on a mission of the utmost importance: sneak into her father’s meeting and meet the Paladins of Voltron for herself!

Allura pushed open the door, noting that her father had yet to enter with his friends. Quickly, quietly, she darted to the table, ducking beneath it and hiding in the direct center. It was large and circular, so her father wouldn’t see her immediately when he and his friends entered.

Allura only had to wait a matter of minutes before the door opened.

“-ally, Blaytz, I thought you were settling down with that Marmora fellow,” Allura heard her father, Alfor, say.

“Hey, I’m being friendly!” A higher pitched voice proclaimed, and Allura immediately connected this voice to the Blaytz Coran had told her about. “Just because I sound flirtatious, doesn’t mean I’m actually flirting.”

“The poor girl was so red you could call her a tomato!” A woman laughed, and Allura immediately thought of Trigel. She wondered what it must be like to be the only woman on the team.

“I wouldn’t,” A large boisterous voice cut in. “She’d hardly taste the same.”

“Gyrgan, that’s disgusting,” Trigel said flatly.

“Alfor,” a fifth voice, likely that of Zarkon’s by conclusion, interjected, “I believe you called us here to discuss something of importance?”

“Thank you, Zarkon,” Alfor said. Allura heard paws drop onto the table, and she knew it must be Red in her house cat form. Allura held her breath. Red always liked to spoil Allura’s plans. Allura’s father was still talking. “I have a plan for finding our successors. The lions choose their riders, correct?”

“That’s what we’ve figured from your clumsy investigation,” Zarkon commented. Allura furrowed her brows. Hadn’t Coran told her that Zarkon and Alfor supported each other like brothers? That didn’t sound very supportive.

“None of us know much about the lions, Zarkon,” Blaytz defended. A cat hopped off the table and touched down to the floor. Allura froze, eyes locked on the blue creature currently sniffing the floor with its tail end in her direction. It’s tail was tipped a darker blue, a red stripe across its back and its paws dipped white.

“I would like to hear your idea, King Alfor,” Gyrgan announced, his tone heavier on the king, as if reminding the inhabitants of the room that the title existed. The blue cat swung its head back, golden eyes landing right on Allura.

“Yes, thank you, Gyrgan. Well, it’s nothing too outrageous, but I figured, the lions resonated with us because of our personalities, yes?” Alfor asked. “Key traits of ours that-”

The blue cat meowed loudly, interrupting Alfor’s speech. Blaytz was the one who spoke first. “Blue? You okay, girl?”

Blue pranced towards Allura, who yelped as the blue cat leapt at her face. When Allura looked back up, bother father and some nymph were bent to look under the table.

“Allura,” Alfor said, chastising in his tone.

“Blue, what’s up?” The nymph, Blaytz, asked. In a moment, Blue had transformed into a large lioness and wrapped herself around Allura. Her rough tongue rubbed over Allura’s arm, slightly wet but mostly just rough and scratchy.

“Allura, come here,” Alfor’s tone brooked no argument, and Allura crawled out from under the table, much to the displeasure of the blue lioness who had been grooming her.

“Father,” Allura nodded her head in greeting, respectful yet cheeky at the same time. Her eyes darted around the room. Trigel was a dryad, tall and graceful, the Green Lion the size of a cat perched on her shoulders. Gyrgan was wide set, a large human, the Yellow Lion shrunk in his enormous arms. Allura knew Zarkon because he was a dark elf, eyes crimson and skin violet. His lion was nowhere to be seen, but Allura knew the Black Lion couldn’t be far. Sitting atop the table, her tail flicking in disapproval, sat the Red Lion, her father’s lion, the creature that wandered the halls of their palace whenever Alfor was home.

“Allura, what have I told you about this room when I am holding meetings?” Alfor demanded.

“It’s off limits,” Allura huffed. The Blue Lion slid out from under the table, standing beside the little princess.

“Exactly. Why don’t you go check on your brother?” Alfor suggested.

“But I never get to talk to the paladins!” Allura complained. “I just want to meet them!”

Alfor heaved a sigh. “Very well. Paladins, this is my daughter, Princess Allura.”

“Hello, little princess.I’m Blaytz, of the Nalquod River,” Blaytz smiled, pressing a gentle little kiss to Allura’s hand. Allura grimaced, and Blaytz laughed. “Sorry, Lulu. I won’t do it again.”

“I’m Trigel,” Trigel announced. “Of the Dalterian Glades.”

“Gyrgan! Of the tribes of Rygnirath, consisting of the villages Terra, Luna, and Kerberos,” Gyrgan introduced himself and flexed his muscles, the Yellow Lion leaping from his arms and transforming into a large golden lion with a wild yellow mane.

“I am Zarkon,” The dark elf said. Allura looked up into his cold, red eyes. Her blood chilled as she realized why he said nothing else. Dark elves considered themselves equal to high elves, or even superior. If a high elf could say they were of Altea, so could a dark elf. Allura had been told that dark elves tended to lean towards more wicked lifestyles. They were easily tempted to darkness because they had been born of darkness.

“Blue really likes you, Princess,” Blaytz smirked. “Maybe you’d like to take her to see your brother?”

Allura glanced at Blue, whose molten gold eyes simply stared right back at her. Allura could hear waves crashing against rocks, rain splattering on dirt roads, and streams bubbling happily. Allura thought of her brother, who loved the sea, and rain, and streams. “Okay.”

Allura met the paladins time and time again afterwards. Every single time, Blue followed her around, grooming her, pushing her to sleep or nap, making sure she ate her food. Blaytz once joked that Blue had absorbed the spirit of her dead mother. Allura had laughed, but Alfor had been angry. He hadn’t invited Blaytz over again for months.

When Reon died at the tender age of twelve, and Allura was sixteen, the paladins came to the funeral. Prince Reon had had a horrible disease since infanthood, according to her father, and it had finally killed him last night. He had no longer had the strength to fight it off. Allura demanded to know what kind of a disease could kill a supposedly immortal being. High elves were not supposed to die of natural cause. Alfor refused to answer. Coran did not answer either, sworn to secrecy by his king. Allura was outraged, and she screeched at them in her rage and her pain. She’d lost her brother, someone so precious to her.

Only three years later did she learn it was poison that killed her brother. Zarkon betrayed her father, killed his servants, his soldiers, rose up against the high elves with a vengeance. Once it was simply Zarkon, Alfor, Coran, and Allura, the dark elf admitted it. He announced that he had poisoned Reon because of his prophetic dreams, because he had seen Zarkon’s betrayal and would have warned Alfor long before the insurgence was ready.

Zarkon explained that he’d killed Blaytz, and Trigel, and Gyrgan. Zarkon told Alfor that it was his turn to suffer. That it was Alfor’s fault for Honerva’s loss. Allura was so confused, so lost, she didn’t understand what he could mean.

Alfor demanded of Coran that he take Allura to the Castle of the Lions. That he lock them away and let Teludav take care of them. Allura begged Coran not to abandon her father, but the man had his orders. If Allura had seen his face, she would have known: it was just as difficult, if not more so, for him to leave her father as it was for her.

The next thing Allura knew, she was falling, so, so dizzy. She was held in firm, strong arms, and when she opened her eyes she was staring into the ruggedly handsome face of a scarred human.

* * *

 

Blue had led them to the base of Nalquod Falls. Shiro only recognized them because farther down the enormous river he could see nymphs filling barrels with liquid. Blue had to assure him and Hunk several times that they couldn’t be seen. Of course, she did this by prancing about in the open for a bit, to no one’s reaction, and if that didn’t make Hunk throw a fit, then nothing would.

After calming down Hunk’s heart rate, Blue had led them to the very edge of the river, water spraying up at them with every ton the falls dropped into the river below. Shiro was entirely unsure of what Blue expected them to do, until she roared and the falls bent in the air, creating a doorway of sorts into a dark cave behind the curtain of really,  _ really _ loud water.

Behind the waterfall was a beautiful sight. An enormous stone castle, crafted from large slabs of stone. Hunk was chattering nervously about what a feat of engineering it must have been to create such a glorious palace. Pidge was simply staring, speechless. Shiro couldn’t say anything either.

It looked a lot like the Galra castle, but it was also much, much different. For one thing, the Galra castle was purple, for some ridiculous reason. Did dark elves just like living in places that matched their skin color? Shiro would never know. But unlike the galra palace, this castle had spires. Four corner spires and one, larger, center spire. Five spires total, just like the number of paladins and lions. Carved into the stone above the enormous front door was the large head of a lion.

“The Castle of Lions,” Pidge mumbled.

“-oh my god, you’re right, I thought this was just a myth, I mean it makes sense that if the lions aren’t a myth, then the castle isn’t a myth, but I never put two and two together, do you think the doors can be opened physically, or is it magic, because they’re pretty big, hey what if-”

“Hunk,” Shiro interrupted. Hunk immediately silenced himself. “No one can answer you if you aren’t even breathing between questions.”

Blue growled at them impatiently and began walking towards the palace doors. Shiro calmly followed, Pidge jogging to keep up with him and his longer legs. Shiro could tell Hunk was hanging back, because his steps were hurried and heavy to catch up with them only a few minutes later.

Blue roared at the doors, her tail flexing behind her. The doors threw themselves open, revealing a long corridor with a high ceiling.

“Magic, I knew they were too big,” Hunk whispered.

“I gotta learn how to do something like that!” Pidge gasped.

Shiro led the two down the hallway, blue torches flaring whenever they stepped into range. Pidge and Hunk were chattering about “motion sensitive spells” and the types of fuel that must have been used to make the fire blue. Shiro focused on their words, rather than any of the unfortunate things he’d discovered during his time since his prison breakout.

Blue led them down a few flights of stairs until eventually they reached a final door. Blue seemed to become incorporeal and sauntered right through. Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk froze at this side of the door.

“Should we-?” Hunk cut his own sentence short, unsure what he meant to say.

“I think maybe…” Pidge mumbled, her face furrowing as she began to think.

“I’m opening the door,” Shiro announced, steeling himself for whatever may lie on the other side. He felt wind rushing through his veins, something was calling to him, calling for him. He pushed open the door, and the wind rushed out of him.

“Keith?”

* * *

 

Blue returning had been a surprise. Keith pulled away from the blue crystal and couldn’t help but greet the lioness with a smile. “You’re back.”

Blue purred, rubbing against his side. Keith stumbled, seeing as she was not exactly your ordinary housecat and she was a very large mammal. He ran a hand through her mane and looked back at the crystal. He could see faint shadows within, something that could be a woman, another that could be a man, and a third shape that Keith couldn’t place for the life of him. “Is this what I’m here for, Blue?”

Blue purred louder. Keith turned to look at her, and just then the doors swung open. He looked up, surprised, and suddenly he was frozen in place.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice filled Keith’s ears. But Shiro had been captured by the Galra.

“Shiro?” Keith mumbled. He could hear his own voice wobble, just like his knees as he even said the damn name.

“Gods above,  _ Keith! _ ” Shiro exclaimed, running forward. Keith stumbled towards him, desperate to make sure he was  _ real _ , to make sure he hadn’t  _ lost it _ , Shiro had to be here now that he saw him. If this was fake, Keith’s heart would shatter. Shiro grabbed Keith’s hand with his own, the grip cold and unfamiliar, the texture stone and foreign. But the other hand, the one now at his back, was warm, comforting. Keith let Shiro pull him into a hug, and buried his face in the man’s shoulder.

Shiro smelled like pine trees and sweat. Smells Keith was well acquainted with. His warmth was familiar, his warmth took Keith back to a time when he hadn’t worried about cursing everyone he spent time with. His scent took Keith back to days spent learning to hunt as Shiro’s unofficial apprentice. When they finally pulled apart, Keith had left a damp spot on Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro’s cheeks were shiny with tears.

“You got so tall,” Shiro laughed, his voice shaky from the need to sob.

“And supposed to be dead, not alive but unarmed,” Keith huffed through his own tears.

“Gods, I thought you were in No Man’s Land? I thought you were in trouble!” Shiro laughed suddenly.

“I  _ was _ . Blue’s an ass, decided to take me on a little field trip,” Keith chuckled. “How’d you know where I was? I made sure to drop off the radar.”

“I have my ways,” Shiro smirked, wiping his face with the fabric of his cloak. Keith pulled Shiro’s cloak to his own face and scrubbed as well. “Hey, get your own cloak to ruin!”

“Why? I have a perfectly good cloak right here, hanging off of you,” Keith teased.

“Hunk, are you crying?” A voice cut through the moment, and Keith startled to see two other people with them. He hastily wiped at his face and fixed his hair, clearing his throat to remove any evidence of having cried.

“I can’t help it!” The bigger and darker of the two strangers announced. “I miss my moms! They probably think I’m dead!”

“Hunk,” Shiro said, in that tone he usually reserved for when Keith felt down in the dumps about his dad. “I’m sure they know you’re okay. It’s probably like a feeling deep in their guts, they know you’re okay.”

Hunk sniffled, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. “You think?”

“I  _ know _ . Families are special that way,” Shiro promised.

“Like me and Matt,” The much smaller stranger offered. “I know he’s out there somewhere.”

Keith looked at Shiro, eyebrows raised. “Who are these weirdos?”

“Keith,” Shiro chastised.

“The name’s Pidge,” The smaller announced. “The big baby’s Hunk.”

Hunk gave Pidge a playful nudge that had her swaying on her feet. “I’m not a baby.”

“Uh, yeah, you are,” Pidge snorted.

Keith looked at the three of them thoughtfully. “Why are you guys here?”

“Blue brought us here,” Shiro explained, gesturing at the smug looking lioness.Keith glared at her, but she didn’t give any indication of an answer. Shiro continued to speak, “It turns out Hunk, you, and I are Paladins of Voltron.”

Keith looked up, surprised. “You are?”

“Yellow paladin,” Hunk piped up.

“Black paladin,” Shiro explained.

Keith looked expectantly at Pidge, who shrugged. “I’m just a magician.”

Blue growled. Keith snorted. “Blue doesn’t think so.”

“Well, Blue’s wrong,” Pidge shrugged. The lioness flicked her tail in annoyance.

“Blue doesn’t seem to think she can be wrong,” Keith commented.

“What are you, a lion whisperer?” Pidge demanded. “She’s wrong. I’m not paladin material. I don’t want to save Altea. I just want to save my brother.”

Blue growled loudly and went to the crystal, pressing her head against it. The crystal glowed where she touched it, and Keith smirked. He placed his hand on the crystal, fingers outstretched, the surface cool against his palm. The crystal glowed where he touched it.

Shiro followed Keith’s lead, placing his flesh hand against the mineral and watching it glow beneath his touch. Ever so hesitantly, Hunk did the same at Shiro’s left side, placing his hand on the crystal.

Pidge held back. Blue growled at her, but she didn’t step forward. Blue snorted before going to grab Pidge herself and dragging her to the crystal. With a frustrated groan, Pidge place her palm on the crystal just as Blue touched it.

The entire rock lit up, and Keith felt waves of energy pulse through him. The crystal shattered, shards flying every which way, magically avoiding the four of them. A woman with long, fluffy, white curls fell from the air, dropping directly into Shiro’s arms. Keith watched in surprise as a ginger man also fell to the floor, and just beyond them, a large black manticore was freed from it’s gemstone prison.

The Black Lion was released.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the first chapter without Lance in it? No, there's one other. See chapter six for no Lance. I'm really nervous about this chapter, I feel like I could've done better, but at the same time, I kind of like it the way it is, but at the same time I want to scrap it and start over, you know, the normal anxieties.


	12. More Important Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor told Lance that he's free to leave- except that he really isn't. Lance is beginning to grow comfortable with the five halfbreeds. Shiro has to deal with a grieving princess, an internalizing teenager, an anxious teenager, and a teenager whose blaming literally the whole world for everything. Also Blue and Black have a debate.

“I think I want to go now,” Lance announced, having long finished his meal. The prince looked up from the sheets of parchment he was studying.

“Very well. Though I must warn you, there are dangerous creatures in the forest, and you may not make it out alive if you leave unprotected,” Lotor warned.

Lance blinked. “W-what kind of dangerous creatures?”

“Wild manticores, griffins, perhaps a dragon or two. But I’m sure you won’t come across anything more dangerous than a wolf, Lance, do not worry yourself,” Lotor reassured.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to send someone with me?” Lance asked meekly.

“All I have here in this fortress are my generals,” Lotor gestured at the women at the end of the table. Ezor waved at Lance perkily. Zethrid jerked her chin up, while Acxa nodded. Narti did not acknowledge him. “I cannot spare one of them now, when my father’s witch has put a price on my head.”

“Oh,” Lance mumbled.

“I’m sure we can spare a sword and shield, however?” Lotor offered.

Lance shook his head. “I wouldn’t be able to use one, never learned. I’m not particularly strong either.”

“Well, then you are always welcome to stay here until I can send Zethrid off with you. For now, though, we will need to be here,” Lotor explained.

“Thank you,” Lance murmured. “For getting me out. And setting me free.”

Lotor smiled warmly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Black and Blue screamed at Lance not to trust the prince. Lance let himself be lured in by Lotor’s next words, “It was no trouble. As I said, I was mostly attempting to put a kink in my father’s plans.”

Suddenly, Lance gasped, visions flashing before his eyes. Allura with her long silky curls, her dark hands running through the azure coat of the Blue Lion, Pidge standing beside her, slow to accept her destiny, Hunk at her side to help her come to terms. Keith stood off to the side, quietly watching Shiro as he met with a large black manticore, the Black Lion.

“ _ Red, green, blue, yellow, the paladins rise. Red, green, blue, yellow, the paladins rise. A bond reborn, a bond once broken, red, green, blue, yellow, the paladins rise, the paladins rise, _ ” Lance felt light headed as he spouted the words.

The vision faded into white light, the words still tumbling off of Lance’s tongue. The world tilted even as Lance chanted the words.

When he came too, he was laying on a mattress, a damp cloth being adjusted on his forehead. He blinked the white spots out of his vision, focusing on the woman above him. Acxa was placing the damp cloth back on his head.

“You’re up,” She hummed. “Figured you would be out a while.”

“What happened?” Lance asked.

“Your eyes went white and you started blabbing about bonds and colors and paladins. Does that happen every time you have a vision?” Acxa demanded.

“No,” Lance shook his head. “Usually I dream up the prophecies. But something’s happening and I’m getting a live stream about it now.”

“I see,” Acxa muttered. She went silent, sitting back in the chair beside Lance’s bed. Lance took this moment to try and feel for any new lions. It was still only Black and Blue, but- Lance felt four new presences, not quite as strong as Black or Blue, but at the same level as Shiro. Immediately Lance reached out.

_ Hello? _ Lance called.

_ They can’t hear you, my cub, _ Black informed.

_ We can! But our paladins cannot, _ Blue informed, feeling Lance’s disappointment as if it were her own.

_ What about the other lions? _ Lance asked.

_ Not yet, _ Black said.  _ Soon _ .

Lance looked to Acxa, who was flipping through a leatherbound book, her face blank. “Why are you here?”

“You were hot as fire to the touch when you passed out. Lotor suspected a fever. Do you feel ill?” Acxa asked.

“Um, no. It was just the paladins awakening their fate, or something,” Lance explained. Acxa nodded.

“I see. Well, feel free to rest the rest of the day. If you have any questions about where things are, Zethrid can hear you from the training room if you call. Lotor urges you to explore the fortress, as it seems you’ll be here indefinitely,” Acxa explained, taking the wet cloth off Lance’s forehead and exiting the room.

Lance was left alone in a room much larger than he was used to. It was still small, but the window let in far more light, and the bed was a bunk, another bed stacked above it. Lance studied the other set of bunks across from him. He must’ve been in the barracks. Lance’s thoughts turned to Regris.

Lance hoped Ezor and Acxa hadn’t killed him in their haste to get Lance out of Zarkon’s palace. Regris wasn’t their enemy, exactly, if Lotor and his generals were also against the Emperor. That’s how it worked, right? The enemy of your enemy was your friend. At least partially.

Lance couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes and rest. Instead, he stood and made his way out of the room, ready to explore the fortress he’d have to call his home. It seems Haggar had ensured that he’d never  _ really _ be free. First, he was a prisoner for decades, sitting in a room with only a chamber pot and the guards outside his door for company. Now, he was a prisoner to his own limitations, unable to fulfill any of his own dreams.

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious,” Princess Allura of Ancient Altea was incredulous as Shiro explained to her the gravity of the situation. She was horrified to learn that Altea had been under Galra rule for centuries and that most people believed the Paladins of Voltron were a myth, not to mention that many of the subjects who believed with certainty were loyal to Zarkon’s empire and knew Voltron as a team of traitors.

“I’m afraid it’s true,” Shiro said calmly, the Black Lion heavy in his lap. All he wanted was to catch up with Keith, but Allura had demanded an explanation, demanded to know what was going on and how long she’d been asleep. Blue had dropped her weight on Allura’s back, and Shiro marveled at her high elf strength as she didn’t even waver under Blue’s lazy weight.

“It- it can’t be,” Allura whispered.

“Princess,” Coran announced. “I’ve convened with the Lion Goddess. It seems to be the truth.”

“But if it’s been  _ centuries _ , then Father-”

“Even if it had been mere days, there would be no hope, Princess. Alfor was slaughtered by Zarkon in cold blood. He did not care to know where the lions were hidden,” Coran said, tone both gentle and bitter at once.

“Yikes,” Pidge muttered, and Shiro shot her a look. She had to cut that out, it wasn’t the time to be snarky. Allura glared at Pidge, and Coran cleared his throat.

“Well, I suppose introductions are in order! You know me, the Princess called me Coran earlier. You also know Princess Allura, I’ve addressed her a couple of times. But we don’t really know you, Paladins!” Coran announced, twizzling his mustache with a strangely chipper grin.

“My name’s Shiro. I guess I’m the Black Paladin,” Shiro explained, his flesh hand running through Black’s dark fur.

“I’m Keith,” Keith said, supplying nothing further. Shiro sighed.

“Keith was my apprentice. We haven’t seen each other in a while, but I promise he’s a capable Red Paladin,” Shiro assured.

“Apprentice? What is your profession?” Coran asked curiously.

“I was hired protection, for scholars heading to dangerous places,” Shiro explained. “Before my charge and I were captured by Galra Imperials.”

“Galra,” Allura scowled, her face twisting from loss to rage.

“You were a mercenary,” Coran surmised.

“Mercenaries can be paid for any job! I didn’t- I  _ don’t  _ hurt innocents,”  Shiro insisted.

“And he doesn’t kill,” Keith said.

“I… I have killed. Once,” Shiro corrected, uncomfortable suddenly as Keith’s violet gaze turned to him in surprise. The look in Keith’s eyes seemed lost, betrayed. Shiro felt like he’d been dropped into a hole and left to die. Immediately, he defended himself. “It was my first fight in the pits, he was going to get a chance at Matt and he wouldn’t go down, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Whatever,” Keith muttered, turning his back on Shiro. Blue made a whining sound before shrinking, much to Shiro’s shock, to the size of a house cat and darting over to Keith, rubbing against his legs in a comforting sort of gesture.

“Keith-”

_ Let Blue handle this, my paladin. _

Shiro looked down at the manticore resting her head in his lap. He still needed to get used to telepathic communications with her. “But-”

_ Let. Blue. Handle. This. _ Black was growling now, her golden eyes fierce and her large black wings with red stripes along the edges flaring a bit. Shiro acquiesced, watching Keith carefully as the boy sat down to allow Blue access to his shoulders.

Pidge cleared her throat. “Awkward.”

“Ah, yes! Who are you two,” Coran said, not missing a beat.

“I’m Hunk. Um, Yellow Paladin,” Hunk waved awkwardly, to which Coran returned the gesture, looking rather amused as he did so.

“I’m Pidge, a magician,” The girl announced stubbornly. Allura looked up from the glare she was sending to keith and Blue, giving Pidge a sharp look.

“Are you not a paladin as well?” Allura made it sound less like a question and more of an accusation.

“Just because I activated some weird godly  _ bullshit _ doesn’t mean I’m the fifth paladin!” Pidge exclaimed. “I’m just looking for my brother, and working with the paladins might help me get there.”

Allura stood, her full height impressive and astonishing. Shiro stood as well, feeling compelled to do so if the ancient princess was. Black grumbled but didn’t say much, her tail swishing in a displeased manner. “This is no ‘godly bullshit’. The Tritheistic gods are real, and you would do well to keep that in mind.”

“Who are  _ you _ to say there’s only three gods? Who are you to say there aren’t seventy gods? Or a hundred?” Pidge demanded.

“Do not speak that way to the princess,” Coran said, tone firm.

“The princess of  _ what _ !? Ancient Altea fell  _ centuries ago _ ! Who’s to say she’s even really a figure of power at this point?” Pidge exclaimed.

“My father was handpicked by Balmera themself to rule over this land! If he hadn’t united the tribes, then dragons would still plague this land, and you would never have been born!” Allura shouted.

“Yeah, the gods also decided his death, didn’t they!?” Pidge yelled.

“The gods are not at fault for what mortals do with their blessing of autonomy!” Allura roared.

“What’s the use of autonomy if your destiny is mapped out for you!?” Pidge shrieked, gesturing vaguely at the entire room. Tears were trapped in the corners of her brown eyes, and her hands were shaking. In a much quieter voice, Pidge asked, “Who told you you were Blue’s paladin?”

The entire room was silent, stunned at the change in tone. Allura quieted as she spoke again as well, respecting Pidge’s delicate mood. “The previous Blue Paladin said he could sense it in my energy… that he could see it in my path.”

“Right. And Shiro, who told you you were Black’s paladin?” Pidge asked, her head bent low so that no one could make out her expression.

“Um. My rescuer did,” Shiro explained. “He said that the Harbinger had seen me, the Black Paladin, kill Zarkon.”

“Keith, who told you you were a paladin?” Pidge demanded.

“Um, Blue, kind of,” Keith muttered.

“Hunk?”

“The Imperial soldiers came to my house and said I was under arrest. They said that the Harbinger said I was the Yellow Paladin,” Hunk explained.

Pidge looked up again, taking a deep breath and steadying her shivering. Finally, she said, “I know I said I don’t believe in a set future. That this is probably just the gods trying to set up ideal heroes to find a better end. But  _ I don’t want to be a hero _ ! I want to find Matt-” her voice broke and the tears in her eyes slipped free- “I want to take him home and reunite with my family. I want to be normal again.”

There was silence as everyone mulled over Pidge’s words. Hunk pulled Pidge close, and she turned to cry into his chest. Blue immediately returned to her lioness form and pounced on the pair, bringing them down under her weight and wrapping herself around them as the room filled with hesitant laughter. Pidge buried her face in blue fur and Black’s laughs filled Shiro’s mind.

_ Blue seems so pleased with herself, _ Black hummed.  _ She always did love babying cubs. _

“You know, I do understand,” Allura announced after another moment’s silence. Pidge looked up. “My father was a paladin long before I was born. The paladins were important heroes after they’d defeated the Dragon King. I knew that, perhaps one day, he wouldn’t return from an adventure. Not knowing was the norm for me, and I prayed everyday never to know. I’d already lost my mother to unknown causes, and my brother was too delicate to leave his bedroom for fear of the slightest cut.”

“Princess,” Coran sighed, her eyebrows creasing.

“I lived my whole life knowing I’d lose both of them before I died. But I never expected to be betrayed in such a way by a man I was told was like a brother to my father. Zarkon betrayed me, betrayed my father, murdered my brother. And I would wish for nothing more than to return to the days when Zarkon was simply standoffish, when Reon would promise me he’d be out of that bed soon enough, when Father would kiss my forehead before and after every mission,” Allura’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “But I cannot.”

Pidge rubbed at her face, glaring at the stones as if they’d been the ones to tell her she was the Green Paladin, to tell her she could never simply return home and be done with the issue of the kingdom’s wellbeing. Hunk pulled her into a side hug. “Hey, we’re in this together, right, Green Paladin?”

“Yes, Hunk is correct. We are in this fight together, and we will defeat Zarkon and return Altea to its former glory as a peaceful land,” Allura announced, her face determined.

“And we’ll get this Harbinger person,” Keith added. Shiro looked at him, raising one eyebrow. Keith shrugged. “It just seems to me that if the Harbinger knows who we are, and where we are, then surely the Harbinger would be able to relay all our plans to the Galra, right?”

“Oh gods,” Hunk squeaked. “He’s right, the Harbinger could find Keith and me!”

“The only reason they couldn’t find me was…” Pidge’s eyes widened. “I was moving too quickly for them to be able to report my position and have someone sent after me! I’d made sure to keep my pattern random, but I meant it so that Imperials could never pin my down using rumors, not for this.”

“And I’d just escaped and gotten on the move as well,” Shiro hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, the Castle of Lions is protected magically,” Coran piped up. “Teludav himself placed magical wards over it when my grandfather built it, about- well, I guess now it’s many more centuries ago, isn’t it?”

“That explains why he couldn’t find the Blue Paladin, then,” Shiro sighed. He looked down at Black, who was staring at Blue intently. Blue was staring back just as intently. “You two wouldn’t happen to know anything would you?”

_ The Harbinger is no danger, _ Black announced.  _ He is on our side. _

“Blue says the Harbinger had only released your locations under duress,” Allura announced.

“Black also says he’s not dangerous,” Shiro agreed.

“That’s good,” Hunk sighed. “I was getting worried for a bit there.”

“I still think we should go get him,” Keith said. “He could be ‘under duress’ again at any time.”

“Perhaps, but if he is such a valuable source of information, would he not be heavily guarded?” Coran piped up. “Alfor kept six guards at Reon’s door when he discovered his son’s prophetic abilities.”

“Reon was a prince, four of those were posted simply because of his status and health,” Allura reminded. “Though it wouldn’t hurt to find all the lions before we attempt any attacks on the Galra.”

Black shuffled in her uncertainty.  _ Lance is not a priority. For the moment, he is in no danger of revealing information. _

Blue roared, getting to her feet in an outraged response to Black’s words.

_ He is safe! We may not trust the situation, but he is in no danger! We must focus on the issue at hand, and not on a cub who won’t listen to our forewarnings! _ Black roared back.

Blue snarled, gnashing her teeth and whipping her tail back and forth as she paced the room.

_ We are going to find the other lions. With the others we can save all of Altea, including Lance, _ Black grumbled. 

Blue satback on her haunches, clearly irritated as her tail tip still flicked back and forth. Black was clearly satisfied with this, and she turned to Shiro and nodded.

“I guess… We’re going to go look for the other lions,” Shiro announced. “Is there anyway to know where they are?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the longest chapter I've written for this story... I'm not that sure that it's good.


	13. Red, the Color of Violence and Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regris LIVES! Also the Blade don't really like Ulaz all that much. Meanwhile, the Red and Blue Paladins have a bonding moment of sorts. Pidge's destiny qualms have not been resolved, but too late, the Red Lion is hidden in the Capital. Who could have seen this coming?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen is my favorite number, so I contemplated a Matt section because he's my favorite character, but like???? What would I do with him right now???? I'll just have him remain a mysterious mystery and introduce him in the best possible way later.

“Is he alright?” Ulaz asked the healer who stepped out of the room. She glared at him.

“Regris is fine. Must you have blown his cover? I’m sure the Imperial healers would have been able to save him quick enough,” The healer said, looking at Ulaz down her slim nose.

“I had no way to know that the witch would be coming to check on the Harbinger so soon,” Ulaz snapped. “I saw a Blade in danger of death and did my best to remedy the issue.”

“Death did not use to phase you, Ulaz,” The healer scoffed. “You have grown soft in the years since you failed in your assignment to destroy the Harbinger.”

“Speak not of the human calf as though he were garbage,” Ulaz snarled, his blood boiling at the healer’s tone.

“No matter,” The healer said, turning away from Ulaz and beginning to walk down the hall. “He is in Lotor’s hands. He is lost to us now.”

As the healer sauntered off, trying to regain any dignity from the fright Ulaz gave her over the Harbinger, Ulaz turned his mind back to Regris. He pushed through the hanging drapes that served as a door to find Regris awake, staring at the rocky ceiling. Regris noticed Ulaz come in, and sighed heavily.

“You should have left me. I had accepted my foreseen death,” Regris said.

“Foreseen de- the Harbinger saw you die?” Ulaz demanded.

“The Auger. He demanded I call him the Auger if I would not use his name,” Regris explained. “He said he had seen the Blade, but had not seen me. He corrected himself when he learned of my name.”

“So you accepted that you would die, but you did not ask Lance how or when?” Ulaz demanded.

“I assumed fate would handle such details,” Regris explained. “The Auger looked uncomfortable telling me of such a thing.”

“You are a fool. Perhaps you see a benefit to ending your life early, but I do not. You are still young, you have decades in you. Do not waste them now, before you have done anything for the Blade and for the kingdom,” Ulaz scolded.

Regris growled in the back of his throat. “What can I do now? I was trained to infiltrate, and  _ you _ have blown my cover before it has even been built.”

“Train again. As I said, you have decades in you. Use them,” Ulaz snapped. Then he stormed out of the room, rage in each step and fists clenched. He would be speaking to Kolivan once again about how he ran the Blade of Marmora.

* * *

 

Keith watched Allura’s expression fall. She said, “I actually don’t know whether or not Father managed to leave hints to where the lions were hidden.”

“He did not,” Coran announced. “But the gods will not withhold answers from their chosen heroes.”

Keith’s eyes fell on Blue and Black, both looking agitated and uncomfortable. Keith had no idea what Black and Blue had just argued about, but he could read in their body language that it was something important to Blue, and she’d lost. Then Keith studied Pidge and Hunk. The two of them were standing towards the exit, Hunk’s large arms around Pidge’s shoulder. It was a sign of comfort and reassurance and Keith’s chest ached. He turned his eyes back to Allura, who was pondering the situation carefully.

“Is there an altar of any sort in the Castle, Coran?” Allura asked.

“Indeed there is, Princess! The communion chamber is at the topmost room in the center spire of this palace. The previous paladins went there to pray for strength and guidance before every mission,” Coran explained.

“Then we’ll go there. I need to ask the gods to know where the lions are,” Allura decided.

Allura exited first, Blue quick to follow on her heels. Coran rushed after her, calling, “Princess! Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

That left the other humans in the room with Keith, an enormous inky black manticore between them. Black rumbled loudly, turning her golden gaze on Shiro. Shiro responded, “We’ll follow your lead, Black.”

The manticore shook her head, lifting it proudly into the air before exiting. Hunk and Pidge glanced between Shiro and Keith for a moment before following Black out the door. Keith looked to Shiro, suddenly realizing what was happening.

“What now, gonna try and have a heart to heart?” Keith demanded.

“Look,” Shiro sighed. “I’m sorry. There really was no other way out. It was either kill Myzax, or let Matt be dragged into the arena after I misstepped and got myself killed.”

“Whatever, I get it. I’m not mad,” Keith insisted. Really, he wasn’t. He just felt sort of down, now. Shiro was Keith’s role model, he was supposed to be above that. Keith had so much blood on his own hands, that Shiro was a shining example of something he could, maybe, one day become. This new information, however, was eye opening. Perhaps it wasn’t that Shiro was a better person than Keith was. Maybe Keith just didn’t have the same options. But he had no idea how to articulate his thoughts to the man who’d taken him in at his lowest. The man he’d just learned wasn’t exactly infallible. “Just. It’s fine. It’s stuff I gotta work through on my own.”

Shiro studied Keith carefully. “Fine. But talk to me, okay? I’m always here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith said, nodding. They stood in the room in silence for a bit before Shiro turned to the door.

“Come on, we should get going. The castle looked pretty big from the outside, there’s probably loads of stairs,” Shiro said. Keith chuckled.

“Why have stairs? Just have a magic hovering platform, be done with it,” Keith commented. Shiro laughed.

“That’d be something, Keith.”

As it turned out the path was not crafted with as much magic as Keith had joked about. Torches flared up with each few feet they passed through, however, lighting the halls with blue pale light. It wasn’t hard to catch up with the rest of the group, and the trail to the communion chamber did lead up several flights of stairs.

Pidge and Hunk were chatting about the kind of magic that could be used in the torches, Coran was giving a lengthy speech about the creation of the Castle of Lions to Shiro, and Allura and Keith walked up the stairs in silence, Black and Blue having flown to the communion room ahead of the rest of them.

Allura’s silence bothered Keith. Not because he didn’t like the quiet. He actually really liked silence, most of the time. But the fact that there were people around him, even chatting people, made Allura’s mute state of being uncomfortable. Keith’s skin was crawling, even, it was that nerve-wracking.

“What does Blue say to you?” Keith finally asked, unwilling to stand beside this princess uncomfortably.

“What?” Allura asked, her silver brows furrowed on her shimmery copper skin.

“Blue. She’s your lion, right? Shiro understand Black, you mentioned something that Blue said, so what does she say to you? Like, not anything specific, just. Does she call you anything? What’s she like?” Keith honestly felt so out of touch with the world. He hadn’t spoken to many people during his time in No Man’s Land, and while it had only been a few months, perhaps, it felt like years.

“Oh. She’s quite excitable. I don’t know that she and I will get on well,” Allura confessed. “She irritated me so much when I was a child, the way she  _ watched _ me. Anything I did while she was around was almost immediately reported to my father. Granted, many of those instances where when I was putting myself in any kind of danger. I suppose she behaves quite like a mother might. I don’t know, I’ve never had one.”

“Neither have I,” Keith muttered. “But that sounds like Blue.”

“You never knew your mother?” Allura asked.

“No,” Keith shook his head. “Then my dad died. So, yeah, I basically know nothing about either of them.”

He didn’t mention the blade tucked in his belt, meticulously wrapped to hide whatever symbol was carved into it. Who knew what trouble that mark could bring? Beside him, Allura sighed. “My father tried to spend as much time as he could with me. I know quite a bit about my mother because of the stories he told me. But he never had much time, so I don’t know who she was, really.”

“Let it roll off your back,” Keith said. “It’s not important. What is important is the kind of person you become. You can let her memory haunt you, let it become the most important thing to you, or you can focus on yourself. You are what matters. She’s dead, and has been for a long time. You are alive, and you can make a life for yourself.”

Allura looked at Keith with her eyebrows raised. “That was very astute, Keith.”

“I have my moments,” Keith shrugged. If only it was as easy to listen to his own advice as it was to give it. Who was his mother? What was this blade? Why did his father think it was important enough to give to him?

Coran interrupted himself suddenly, loudly announcing, “Here we are! The communion chamber!”

“Here goes nothing,” Allura said, taking a steadying breath before marching into the room. Keith looked to Shiro, who nodded, before walking in after her.

* * *

 

Pidge stopped outside the door to the communion chamber, Hunk having just walked in. The ground was made of a shimmering turquoise stone that glowed, the ground turning colorful underneath the feet of each paladin who walked across. Shiro’s feet made the ground turn purple in a circle all around him. Where Keith stood, the floor was crimson, and as Allura walked a quickly fading blue line streaked across the floor. Hunk’s fet had just connected with the glowing floor and slowly a yellow circle grew beneath his feet. Coran’s feet left no color cast, and Blue and Black were roosting, it appeared, on suspended beams, Black on one high in the center, close to the ceiling, and Blue on one farther to the left, a single beam between their roosts.

“Come on, Pidge,” Hunk called as he walked further into the room, a yellow streak marking his path.

Hesitantly, Pidge stepped onto the turquoise stones. She stared intently for a moment, hoping against hope that nothing happened, but slowly and surely a green circle appeared beneath her. Pidge’s spirits sank. She looked up and followed Hunk further into the room, trying to keep her mind off the color coding of the magic floor.

Allura knelt before a large statue at the end of the room. It was a woman, tall and graceful, her arms extended to either side, and her chin held high. At her feet were two sculpted lions, small and barely reaching her knees, and on her arms were another two, still small and not much longer than her forearms, and then, framing her head, was the mouth of a fifth lion, the pelt streaming down her back like a cloak. The Lion Goddess.

Allura did not pray out loud, like most prayers Pidge had seen done in temples. She merely bowed her head low, touching her forehead to the ground, and held the position.

As Allura bent low, the turquoise glow of the floor lifted in flecks, tiny light spots the size of fireflies rising into the air and creating a map of Altea all around them. Pidge stared, surprised, and batted some of the glowing dots, making them bounce about a little before they returned to a stationary position.

Then on the map, five different colored glowing points erupted suddenly. There was Allura’s navy blue and Shiro’s deep purple glowing in one spot that resembled a small 3D model of Nalquod Falls. A yellow point sparked brilliantly from the Galra farmlands, and a green one flared deep in the forests, while the red point spiraled over the map several times.

Allura stood up, studying the map carefully. Pidge pointed at the red point, still spiraling the map. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Allura confessed. “Coran?”

“Not a single clue, Princess!” Coran announced, twizzling his mustache.

Slowly the red point came to a stop, hovering just over a large bundle of turquoise spots, forming walls and towers and a palace surrounded by a city. The red dot glowed brightly, blaring danger, announcing its presence the way an army does, Pidge’s heart beating hard in her ears to simulate the drums of war.

“The Red Lion is in the capital,” Shiro’s voice was strained as he said what everyone in the room had realized all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter titles are getting really cool now, I hope you guys are paying attention to them, they're hella relevant. (Read: probably not relevant but still kind of poetic in a pseudo poetic way)


	14. The Legend of the First Paladins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paladins decide which lion to retrieve first, and Keith is a jealous boi because Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk seem so close. Thace is in incredibly deep cover with no backup and his mate is a brash, no-good, rule-breaker who blew his cover and has forced Thace to denounce him before the entire Galra high command. Lance reads a book and learns some horrible things and quickly decides to go against everything Blue and Black have been telling him. Also the first paladins existed long, long before Alfor and his pals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the final section, when Lance reads an old book, it implies some incestuous rape stuff. So that's a thing.

Hunk swallowed thickly as he stared at the ominous red spot. He fiddled with the buttons on his coat nervously as everyone processed Shiro’s words and the magical hologram before them. Keith was the first one to speak up, “What in the nine hells is the Red Lion doing with the Galra?”

“I thought Father hid the lions? Why would Zarkon have his lion?” Allura demanded.

“Alfor was only able to get Black away from Zarkon using Red’s power,” Coran explained. “It makes sense that Red would have fallen to Zarkon. Though he wouldn’t have been able to connect with her, especially not after betraying her paladin. Red leant toward being rather fiercely overprotective.”

“Well, if we went to find Red, we’d be met with great resistance,” Allura surmised. “I doubt we could retrieve and awaken her without more power.”

Hunk studied the map carefully. “You know, these farms look to be the Galra run ones.”

“What? No, those are the Balmeran Moon Harvest grounds, the Galra can’t go there. It’s sacred,” Allura contradicted. Coran also looked scandalized.

“No, the Galra colonized that land decades ago. It’s in the history books at school. Page 65, paragraph 3:  _ The Balmeran Moon Harvest grounds were tamed and cultivated by the Empire in the year 22 PO so that all of Altea could be blessed with famineless winters. We praise Zarkon’s name for his ingenuity _ ,” Hunk recited, Pidge mouthing the words alongside him, while Keith and Shiro instinctively moved their right fists over their chest.

“What was that?” Allura demanded, glaring at the salute the four humans had done as if it killed her dog.

“Terra is only technically independent. The Galra Empire has infected every bit of our life, our history, our schooling, our heritage is basically Galra property. Terra only recently cut off ties with the Empire because of what happened to Shiro and Oligarch Holt’s son,” Keith explained.

“My brother,” Pidge clarified.

“Wait, what?” Keith looked startled to learn this.

Hunk chuckled a little, clapping Keith on the back. The raven haired young man buckled under the strength of Hunk’s pat. “It’s fine, buddy, it’s hard to recognize her when she doesn’t really act like nobility.”

“Shut up, Hunk, I’m plenty noble,” Pidge smirked, lifting her chin up proudly.

“I spent the last several days in close proximity to you while you were sleeping. There’s nothing noble about your lake of drool,” Hunk announced, acting like a traumatized war hero as he stared off into the distance with wide eyes, solemnly shaking his head.

“I think you’re mistaking me for you,” Pidge announced, her smirk ever wider.

“The little princess is right,” Shiro said, joining in the good natured ribbing. “You’re the one with the waterfall, Hunk.”

“Hey, watch it with the princess talk!” Pidge exclaimed.

“Hey, it’s nice that you’re all pals, or whatever, but can we get back to the matter at hand?” Keith demanded, tone short and clipped. Hunk looked at Keith, surprised, and noticed his gaze locked on Shiro, who had gone to stand beside Pidge as they joked around. What was up with him? Hunk decided to ease the tension.

“Right, well, I suggest we get the Green Lion first, seeing as those forests are so dense that the Empire hasn’t been able to get very deep in them yet,” Hunk said. Allura and Coran latched onto the sudden subject change, and Hunk winced at not having noticed how lost they’d been in the conversation.

“Right, well you make a good point, Hunk,” Allura agreed.

“And I’m afraid we’ve been asleep too long to really know the extent of Galra influence,” Coran admitted. “So I suppose we’ll have to trust you four.”

Suddenly Hunk felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wasn’t even eighteen yet and already he was responsible for the entire kingdom’s fate. He and the others in this room would have to face Emperor Zarkon in a final grapple for the kingdom. He could very easily die at any point in this journey. That didn’t sit well in Hunk’s gut, and he felt the trepidation pushing his breakfast up in his throat.

* * *

 

Thace stood at Prorok’s side like the loyal lieutenant he had to play as Haggar spat and snarled in front of them, standing before Zarkon’s throne and explaining what had happened. Regris had been attacked and some fool hardy Blade member had gone in to rescue him. Thace knew of only one elf who would dare, and only because of the human calf he’d grown so close too. Thace prayed that Ulaz made it safely out of the Capital.

“A rebel faction,” Prorok muttered. “They must be fools to believe our Emperor will not eventually find them and snuff them out. The ones calling themselves Freedom Fighters, I understand, but this ‘Blade’? Surely all dark elves have witnessed Zarkon’s power for themselves.”

“Do not be so rash as to assume your experience is the same as any dark elf among us,” Thace reminded. “If you trust the wrong elves, it will be your head on the block.”

Thace gestured with his eyes towards Sendak, and Prorok grunted. Thace wished the commander was not loyal to the Empire. His careful plotting would have been useful to the Blade. As it was, Thace could only do his best to steer the elf away from the more sadistic members of Zarkon’s high command. “As always, Thace, you speak truly.”

Haggar rounded on Prorok suddenly, and Thace stiffened, wondering if she’d heard their whispers. “You! Both the traitors came from  _ your _ recruitment! Who is your recruiting officer?”

Thace did not visibly allow himself to relax, but he did sigh internally out of relief. Prorok glared at Haggar. “Thace has my full trust. He has never led me astray before. The mere idea that he could be purposefully allowing these ‘Blade’ members into our ranks is insulting to both myself, and him.”

Haggar narrowed her eyes at Thace. “Perhaps you should be more selective in your recruitment.”

“Of course, Lady Haggar,” Thace said, allowing a little contempt to slip into his words.

“I know you,” Haggar murmured thoughtfully, studying his face. Suddenly her eyes widened. “You were the mate of Ulaz.”

Prorok scowled, offended on behalf of Thace. “Do you dare to imply-”

“I am every bit as betrayed and wounded by Ulaz’s hidden agenda as any soldier of the Empire who knew him well, Lady Haggar,” Thace announced drily. “And frankly, I have decided a traitor to be unworthy of my affections. I would never have kept his identity as a double agent secret if I had known from the start.”

Haggar didn’t seem to trust him, but Zarkon said from his throne, “Leave him be, Witch. You know well that the heart and it’s affections can be a difficult thing.”

Haggar scowled and made her way back to her place beside Zarkon’s throne. Prorok muttered beneath his breath, “I’d be shocked to learn she was in possession of a heart, even more so to learn it could love.”

Zarkon clapped his hands, and everyone in the room stood to attention, their right fists over their hearts. Zarkon’s empty, inky eyes swept over the commanders and their lieutenants. “We will fortify the castle. Protect the Red Lion. If the paladins are awoken, they will come for it, and they will perish. Traitors to the Empire will be crushed mercilessly.”

“Vrepit sa,” The soldier’s all chanted at once. To Thace, the words felt like ash on his tongue after denouncing his mate so publicly. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to be in such deep cover for the Blade.

* * *

 

_ Long before Altea had been united, the kingdom had consisted of several different tribes. There were the high elves, who called themselves Alteans and were seen as arrogant by all the other tribes. The Alteans believed that they were bron of the gods. The nymphs inhabited every body of water, the Balmeran Trolls owned the land at night, cultivating farms and sharing their crops with the world, the dark elves lived in mountain caves, the humans lived in various tribes along the coasts, and so on. _

_ The gods were heavily involved in mortal affairs in those days, settling disputes, blessing harvests, at least according to legend. Many myths tell of several demigods living in this time. One legend tells of the son of the Lion Goddess, a glittering golden elf known as Faldur, who started as a hero but became something else. _

_ Faldur was a good, honest son. He, like any of the Lion Goddess’ children, had magical abilities. There are many of these abilities are thought to be fiction, but Faldur himself had the strength of a thousand elves and skin that could not be pierced by mortal weapons. He was beloved by many, and was rumored to have been unfaithful to his three wives because of the attention he received from other women. _

_ That was the first step in his corruption. Eventually he realized that he was more powerful than any of the people in Altea. He went to his mother’s temple and demanded of her to grant him further power. He saw no reason why even the dragons shouldn’t bow to him. The Lion Goddess denied him, and Faldur grew angry. _

_ Instead, Faldur studied magic. As a demigod, he had magic in his veins. So he studied magic until eventually he could warp it to his will, and he created his own brand of magic. His eldest child was a young elven girl known as Leira. He cast a spell on her and her mind was lost to him. The legend goes that he then manipulated her into accepting his advances and bearing him yet another child. When the spell had worn off, young Leira prayed to the gods for forgiveness and took her life, as well as the infant inside her. _

_ In some religions, the story of Leira the Despondent states that the poor girl became a goddess herself, the Queen of the Dead, punishing wicked men and women, her unborn infant screaming her pain and betrayal at her father’s hands for all the suffering to hear. _

_ Faldur now had the power to control the minds of anyone he cast his spell upon. He used this horrible power to command entire armies, and before long he had developed his abilities enough that he decided to command a dragon. It is not described in any version of this myth how he managed to accomplish this, but legend tells the Lion Goddess was forced to intervene. _

_ Unfortunately, Faldur had managed to sever the connection between the divine and the mortal worlds, and thus the Lion Goddess had to use heroes to do her work for her. She sent five totems to Altea, each totem bound on a path to find someone of pure heart. _

_ The black totem found a thieving dark elf, who stole from the plentiful high elves and fed the starving dark elf children so they wouldn’t become sick and unhealthy. The red totem found a daring human pirate, who fought her captain at every turn if he tried to hurt someone. The blue totem found a chieftain’s daughter, a girl who felt caged in her own home. The yellow totem found a lonely traveler, a follower of Teladuv, draped in the flowing robes of his clerics. The green totem found a nymph dancer who played with the hearts of land dwellers. _

_ The five heroes were so entirely different, but they bonded together and eventually defeated Faldur, who had infused his powers into a special amulet and named himself the Dragon King, now that he had an army of dragons at his disposal. _

_ It was a long and dangerous battle, but eventually Faldur was defeated by a dragon the five paladins managed to summon, a fierce and formidable creature they called Voltron. Thus the paladins were named: the Paladins of Voltron. _

Lance heard footsteps and he shut the book, being sure to shove the bookmark back where he’d found it. He quickly busied himself with a different book, flipping it to the third page and perching on the desk in the middle of the room, pretending he hadn’t just been reading the large tome sitting behind him. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be looking at that book.

Lotor walked into the room and stopped upon noticing Lance. “Ah, Lance. Acxa told me you were up, I didn’t expect you to be in the library.”

“I guess I wanted to read. I haven’t read anything since I was really young, and that was mostly books on medicine and things,” Lance explained, tilting his head.

“Medicine?” Lotor asked, mimicking Lance’s head tilt.

“Ah, um. While my family was very healthy, I wasn’t the same. It was my sickness’ fault when we had to stay in one place, and that’s how the Galra found us,” Lance explained, staring at the words in his book but not seeing them.

“A sickness,” Lotor murmured thoughtfully. Lance nodded.

“I don’t remember being sick, but I remember reading medicine books. And I remember that it was part of Haggar’s deal with my father, once they’d talked. Haggar knew a way to heal me, and only she had the ingredients. I had to go with Haggar, or die in my family’s care. My mother wasn’t happy, but… well, the Galra are powerful,” Lance grinned lopsidedly. “For the longest time, I was sure Haggar had imprisoned them. Then recently, I figured they must already be dead.”

“They aren’t,” Lotor assured.

“I hope not,” Lance whispered. “You said I could go find them, so then they  _ have _ to have escaped Haggar, haven’t they?”

“Of course,” Lotor said. “You would feel if they were lost to you. You would know that you wouldn’t see them again.”

“Lotor, what is it you’re trying to do?” Lance asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You told me that you saved me to get in the way of your father’s plans. What is it you’re trying to do that needs to stop his plans?” Lance asked.

Lotor chuckled. “You have the ability to see the future of the Paladins of Voltron, and yet you do not know what they are fighting against?”

Lance shook his head. Lotor grabbed Lance’s hand and set his book aside. He led Lance to the other side of the library, where a map of the world was hung on the wall. He gestured to the mountain range that separated Altea and Alterna. “In these mountains lies the amulet of the Dragon King.”

“The Dragon King?” Lance whispered, his thoughts flashing back to the book on Lotor’s desk.

“My father means to acquire both this amulet and the five lions of Voltron. Then he means to conquer all of the world, Altea and Alterna and everywhere else,” Lotor explained, ignoring Lance’s echo. “He will rule the world with an iron fist, leaving all his subjects to bow down in terror.”

“No,” Lance whispered, horrified.

“I mean to find the amulet before he does,” Lotor announced. “I mean to use it myself, to defeat his army, to destroy him. Then I mean to return the magic in the amulet to oblivion.”

Lance imagined the kind of horrid things someone could do with the Dragon King’s amulet. If Voltron was powerful, than this amulet was just as, and far more dangerous. Black and Blue were in agreement that something needed to be done about this amulet. If Lotor meant to use it for good, then destroy it, perhaps then Altea and the surrounding world would be safe! Perhaps then Lance could rest easy!

_ Don’t do it, cub, _ Blue warned, pleading and cautious.

Lance didn’t listen, turning to Lotor with a determined look in his eyes. “I’d like to help you.”

Lotor smiled, showing his teeth. The gesture was more frightening than welcoming, but Lance shook the feeling off. “You can aide me by sharing any visions you think are important with me.”

“How would I know if they were important?” Lance asked, uncertainty making his voice waver. Black and Blue were begging him not to trust this man, and Lance clamped hard on their connection, blocking them out.

“If you’re that concerned over it, share them all with me,” Lotor said indifferently. “I will figure it out for myself.”

Lance could feel Blue and Black niggling at the back of his mind, telling him not to trust Lotor. But this was Lance’s decision to make. He wasn’t nearly as naive as most people would think, Lance knew when to tell someone was using him. Lotor’s generals had told him that Lotor didn’t need to know Galra movements. But Lance didn’t want the Galra getting their hands on the amulet, not now or ever.

“Anything to keep Altea safe.”


	15. To Gain Trust For Better or Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge doesn't like forests, but some forest creatures like her. Later, but elsewhere, Lance loves sunflowers and also he loves Hunk, and also he's sad- then he gets attacked by a griffin and is rescued. When he is attacked, he has a blinding vision of the Green Lion's awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha... looks like we'll be getting a Holt reunion before Lance meets our paladins??? Oops...

Pidge hated the woods. She hated the way the sun and the work it took to walk through it made her sweat, she heated the way the sweat attracted bugs, and she hated basically all plants. They gave off pollens, and while Pidge wasn’t allergic herself, she’d been horribly scarred as a child when her father’s eyes swelled and watered and turned yellow one particularly flowery spring. Matt and Pidge had both been lucky, neither of them inheriting their father’s horrible allergy, but it was still enough to make Pidge severely uncomfortable in the outdoors.

It was part of why no one in Terra recognized her. Terra was a small city, but there were flowers everywhere, and before Pidge was convinced that she didn’t have an allergy and she would be fine, she took to holeing herself up in the library of the Big House, where all the oligarchs and their families lived. There she studied and practised magic.

Matt was a much more explorative child, demanding to be taught magic with other magician children in the city. Everyone knew Prince Matthew well, and he dreamed of leaving the city to study magical herbs and the like. Pidge had never pictured leaving the small coastal city, but Matt did. Matt wanted to explore the world, Matt wanted to see everything, learn all of it.

When he finally did, he was captured by the Empire. Thus Princess Katherine shed her identity and ran out into the world to find her brother, her best friend, the only person she really ever talked too. Now she was Pidge, a magician, a paladin, and- Keith was staring at her.

“What?” She snapped.

“Shiro knew Matt for three weeks before they went out to find magic herbs,” Keith mused. “He was around the hut for a bit.”

“So?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I just- you look exactly like him,” Keith said. “I don’t know how I missed it.”

“I don’t see it,” Pidge shrugged. “Mom says it’s the eyes.”

“She’s right, I think. Same big brown eyes filled with a thirst for knowledge,” Keith nodded thoughtfully, his intense indigo gaze locked on Pidge’s face.

“Could you maybe not stare? I’m sweaty, uncomfortable, and I’m pretty sure I just got bitten by my fifteenth mosquito,” Pidge complained.

“Sorry,” Keith looked away. “I’m just surprised. I’m usually very observant.”

“Are you?” Pidge grunted, trampling through some more tall brush.

“Usually,” Keith stressed the word. Pidge snickered as she ducked under a branch. Keith chopped it down with his blade.

“What is that?” Pidge asked. She studied the sleek short sword, examining the lavender tint in the steel. She noticed that Keith had wrapped the hilt in grubby linen.

“Just an heirloom, I guess. All I have left of my parents,” Keith explained.

“Weird heirloom,” Pidge snorted. She looked up at where Shiro and Hunk’s back were, farther up ahead on the trail, Allura so far she could barely see any hint of her silver hair. “So why are you back here with me, Mr Fit?”

“I… I don’t think I want to share,” Keith decided.

“Oh, come on. Can’t be as embarrassing as my pathetically out of shape ass,” Pidge joked.

“It’s just- You’re really small. And I don’t want you falling behind just because someone wasn’t making sure you were keeping up, or… something,” Keith muttered.

Pidge blinked. Was he… pitying her? She didn’t need that, not from anyone. Defiantly, she snapped, “I can keep up.”

“It’s not- I’m not saying you aren’t capable. I’m just saying, you seem close to Shiro, and he can’t keep an eye on both you and Hunk all the time, so- look, we’re the Paladins of Voltron, we’re a team, we should help each other-”

“Keith,” Pidge interrupted, and Keith stopped his flurry of excuses. Keith looked at her, a slight pout to his lips. “I might be the youngest person here, but I can handle myself. I’ve studied combat magic. I know strategy well. But if you’re worried, you can keep me company.”

“Okay,” Keith muttered. The two of them trampled through the woods a little further, before Pidge froze, stock still.

_ Katie, _ a whisper floated through the air.  _ Katie Holt is that you? _

“How-?” Pidge looked up on instinct, searching for the voice. She didn’t have to move too much before she faltered, seeing dozens and dozens and dozens of shimmering golden eyes hiding in the canopy. “Keith…”

“What?” Keith asked, sounding immediately on edge.

“Okay, nobody freak out, but…” Pidge pointed up. “We’ve kinda got company.”

_ Katie, _ the whisper returned. Shiro, Allura, and Hunk had come back around to observe the canopy along with Keith, who had his blade pointed upwards, ready to act.

“How do you know my name?” Pidge asked, cautiously slow.

One pair of glowy eyes started moving, and a figure slid down the length of a tree, landing with a little bounce on their feet right in front of the party. The figure was tall, graceful, with thin limbs, minty colored skin and green eyes that seemed to encompass every shade in the world. “I am Ryner, of the Olkari Dryads. What brings you to the Woods of Olkarion?”

“Don’t say anything,” Keith and Allura muttered in unison, and Pidge glanced between them, grinning a little. No way was she letting them live  _ that _ down.

“I won’t,” She responded, a little lightly. She turned to Ryner. “I think I asked you first.”

“Right, of course. My apologies, I did not mean to pry,” Ryner said, her even gaze on Allura. “I believe, if it is answers you wish, the one who has them is Te-osh, a dryad traveler who came through here with a young human man.”

Pidge’s breath halted briefly.

“Do you mean,” Shiro started hesitantly. He took a steadying breath and started again. “Do you mean Matt came through here?”

“Yes, Matthew came through here,” Ryner nodded. “He and Te-osh fought a skirmish against some lucky Galra who breached our wood. Te-osh was wounded, and she has stayed with us for her own health, but Matthew went on his way.”

“Where?” Pidge demanded. “You have to tell me!”

“I would if I could, young human. But these two were as secretive as the five of you,” Ryner said simply.

“Take me to Te-osh then! I have to know where Matt is!” Pidge exclaimed.

“You  _ can’t _ go,” Keith reminded hotly. “We have a much more important mission, think about what’s at stake here!”

“It seems to me that if I don’t get my brother, Zarkon takes over, and if I  _ do _ get my brother, Zarkon takes over,” Pidge snapped. “No one tells me what to do, not you or any gods!”

“Are you… the Paladins of Voltron?” Ryner asked, and the canopy rustled.

Allura’s shoulders slumped and she said, “Yes, we are the ones destined to bring Zarkon to his knees.”

“No! I’m just a magician, I have no Great Destiny, I’m just me! Just Katie, just Pidge!” Pidge shouted in frustration. She didn’t  _ want _ to matter in the grand scheme of things, she didn’t  _ want _ to go down in history, to become legend. Pidge wanted to have the same freedom she’d had in Terra, as second born.

Matt was groomed to politics, manners rammed into him every spare minute, economics piled onto his homework assignments beside the ones from the public school he’d fought so hard to go to. Matt was raised to be charming, but detached, to be cunning, but considerate. Pidge was not. Pidge had options.

Colleen had once smiled at her daughter and told her, “You can get an apprenticeship to a  _ blacksmith _ if that’s what you really want. Just know I’ll always be here to support you and help you if you change your mind. Matt has a very important job, and that’ll have its own special ups and downs. But  _ you _ , Katie? You’re going to be whatever you want.”

“And it’s going to be amazing,” Sam had said. Pidge was not a paladin. She worked hard to be a great wizard, and she was still studying the arcane art of animation. She worked hard to learn combat magic so she could find her brother, and a lot of that studying was hands on in the moment. She didn’t plan on being a god’s pawn, and she didn’t know how to handle the idea that now… now she was.

“I think we need to hash a few things out,” Shiro decided. “Maybe we can talk to Te-osh while we do?”

Ryner looked gobsmacked that he was even asking. “You are the Paladins of Lore! The Olkari will aide you however we can.”

Several dryads slipped down from the canopy and the trees and plants parted bit to form an easier path to follow. Ryner began walking through the woods. “Te-osh is at the village, this way.”

Pidge glanced at Allura and Keith, both of whom looked hesitant to follow. Allura, however, sighed and followed Shiro and Hunk down the path. Keith still had his sword out, held in his fist beside his thigh. “You coming, Mr Fit? Because I’m definitely going.”

Not only did this Te-osh have information on Matt’s location, but Ryner still hadn’t told Pidge how she’d spoken to her in her mind. Pidge intended to find out.

* * *

 

Lance couldn’t exactly leave the fortress entirely, seeing as there was a forest inhabited by dangerous beasts that could kill him because he was a weak useless idiot who got his hopes up too high too soon. Of course he wouldn’t last a minute on his own, of course any thoughts of freedom were foolish from the start, how stupid and naive could one person be?

_ Enough of that, _ the Blue Lion hissed at him.  _ You are so brave to hope, so brave to have made it through so much. _

Lance didn’t exactly believe her, and he could tell she was upset that he didn’t, but he let himself forget it. After all, there were so many sunflowers around, and yellow was  _ Hunk’s _ color. Lance let himself imagine what a hug from the large boy would be like, what seeing his smile in person would make him feel. Maybe he should ask Blue and Black. They’d met him by now, surely?

_ The yellow paladin is kind and conscientious, _ Black hummed.  _ But you knew that, didn’t you? _

Lance grinned, laying back in the grass so that he was looking at the brilliant blue sky through the sunflowers. He heard Axca calling, “Don’t move too far, protecting you is much harder if I can’t see you!”

“I’ll be fine!” Lance assured loudly, poking his head over the sea of flowers. He ducked back down and giggled a bit. He studied a brilliant crimson bug crawling up the side of a sunflower, black spot all over it’s carapace. What was it, he knew he recognized it. The bug fluttered suddenly, and turned to perch on the tip of Lance’s nose.

_ Ladybug, Lance. You’ve seen some, _ Blue reminded, and she pulled a couple of his memories into the front of his mind, of catching one of these brilliant red bugs.

“Ladybug,” Lance whispered. The bug flew off, as if spooked by his speech. He watched it disappear into the blue above. “Ladybug.”

_ “They’re good luck, Carino.” _ Not Black or Blue, and definitely not a voice he was hearing now. He closed his eyes and focused on the words, and his mother’s hazy face floated into his memory. The only really clear thing about her was her smile. Big, beautiful, and lopsided.

“Do you think this means I’ll have good luck?” Lance asked.

_ I promise things are looking up _ , Black promised.

Lance noticed how much of a non-answer that sounded like nearly instantly. He sighed. “I hope Hunk’s smile looks like Mama’s.”

Lance stood up again, walking through the sunflowers and looking at them rather glumly now, wondering if he’d even ever get to meet Hunk. It’d be lovely, for Lance, to meet the yellow paladin. It meant meeting all the paladins. It meant-

“Lance, run!” Axca’s shout was loud and startling, and Lance froze. He looked up to see Axca reaching over her shoulder to grab an arrow, her bow already out and pointed in the air, ready for combat. “I said,  _ run _ , you idiot, go for the fortress!”

Lance turned to see an enormous beast, a griffin, with sharp talons and a cruel beak. It roared, a loud avian sound, and Lance’s legs turned to jelly as he immediately followed Axca’s shouted order. Lance heard the ruffle of wings and the loud footsteps of the griffin as it gave chase. Lance could see, coming out of the fortress, Narti, Ezor, and Zethrid, weapons drawn as they came to Axca’s aide.

Pain burst in Lance’s left arm, pulsing and wild. Lance cried out and stumbled, falling to the ground and skinning his knees, though the dull sting of those wounds were muted by the pulsating stabbing sensation in his left arm. He opened his eyes, but no longer was he in the sunflower meadow with a griffin chasing him.

Instead, he heard nothing, the silence suddenly pressing hardon his ears. He saw endless green, leaves covered the floor so thoroughly that he couldn’t see any dirt whatsoever, leaves above him covered any sunlight, any blue sky. Brown, red, and white bark was scattered everywhere, and Lance saw a wall of vines to one side. Bursting from behind the vines was something elegant, beautiful, the roar of a lion permeating the silence and causing Lance to gape in awe.

“Green…” he whispered, and just as he did something unseen slashed at his face and he stumbled to the floor, pain blooming in his cheek. He clutched at it and looked at his hand, seeing blood. He looked around, no longer in the tranquility of the beautiful forest, the griffin above him roaring ferociously.

Lance’s breath came heavy, his chest heaving and his heart palpitating as he realized that this could very well be the end of him.

A figure knocked the griffin off of Lance with a powerful strike with a sword, and Lance blinked, recognizing Lotor himself. Lotor’s generals rushed at the griffin, ready to continue the fight, but Lotor dropped to his knees beside Lance. Gingerly, he cupped Lance’s injured cheek with one hand. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” Lance murmured, his face heating a bit at the soft expression on Lotor’s face. “I’m- My face hurts.”

Lotor laughed a bit, nodding. “Yes, we’ll get that fixed up. Maybe we shouldn’t let you outsi-”

“No!” Lance shook his head. “I liked this. Up until the griffin thing.”

Lotor looked worried, but he nodded. “Then we should send two of my generals with you next time you’re in the meadow. In case this happens again. I would be beside myself if anything happened to you under my care.”

Lance’s heart swelled a little, he couldn’t help but feel valued and important in this man’s eyes. No one had ever worried about him this way before, and he felt himself thinking fondly about all five of his saviors. He laughed, “I’m really glad you kidnapped me.”

Lotor smiled, and Lance didn’t notice the malintent behind it this time. “I am too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... don't know if I'm feeling good about this chapter or not.


	16. Mind and Heart Don't Often Agree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge gets some answers, and makes some decisions. Lance feels some love in the air- that poor boy is naivete embodied. Keith does some thinking, brooding style, and the team comes up with a very, very vague plan for getting the Yellow Lion.

The Green Lion had emerged in a flurry of leaves once Pidge had accepted that she couldn’t escape how badly the world needed her. It happened when the Galra attacked, having followed the path that the dryads had made and left open, attacking the village. Shiro had mounted Black, and Allura mounted Blue, and they rode to battle. Keith and Hunk swung their blades at any Galra who were close to them. Pidge used her magic as best she could while she ran to the healing hut to meet Te-osh, but before she could enter and get the information she needed, it was overcome with flames, dryads shrieking from inside.

So Pidge watched the dryad village burning, she watched the paladins fighting, but losing, and she thought of Matt, time seeming to slow around her.

“You’ll never be happy in life if you don’t help people out sometimes,” He’d told her once, after getting on his knees in the mud in his newly tailored pants and helping a kid fix their little wagon wheel. “What if you needed help and no one came to offer it?”

Pidge realized, then and there, that it may be fate that named her a paladin, but that was because of her own strength. Her own force of will. A self fulfilling prophecy in the most ridiculous sense. Everything was a reaction of a future or past action, and while destiny was not set in stone, time wasn’t written linearly either. She was meant to offer aid to the world because she could, because she -believe it or not- she  _ was _ paladin material.

Then she felt something in her mind, something new and unfamiliar, but comforting all the same. The voice she’d heard in the wood hadn’t been the dryads, but the Green Lion herself. It was terrifying, it was thrilling, it was a miracle like no magic she’d ever seen before. With Green’s help, the Galra were fought off, and as many dryads as could be saved were.

Te-osh was among the wounded, but she had survived. With three lions now, travel had become simpler. Allura had managed to convince Keith into letting Pidge speak with the dryad, and Shiro was keeping him busy.

“I can go in with you? To talk to her, I mean,” Hunk offered. Pidge glanced at Green, who was pushing away Blue whenever the larger lioness attempted to snuggle close affectionately.

“You know, I think I can do it alone. I’m stronger than even  _ I _ thought, you know? I can deal,” Pidge assured, smirking a bit. Hunk smiled with warmth like the sun.

“I’m always here for you,” Hunk reminded.

_ We all are, _ Green said, her molten gold eyes meeting Pidge’s honey brown. She winced a bit, still unused to the intimacy of this new arrangement. She ducked into the hut that was slowly being regrown and rewoven around them.

“Te-osh?” Pidge called through the hut.

“I am here,” A hoarse, maternal voice called from one of the freshly repaired beds still smelling of oak and sap and ash. Pidge darted to the dryad’s bedside. Te-osh studied her carefully. “It couldn’t be… Are you of Matt’s blood?”

“My name is Katie,” Pidge said. “The dryads say you know where my brother was going?”

“Yes, of course. I regret to say that I must not reveal that information, but know that if he made it there safely, then he cannot be harmed,” Te-osh swore.

Pidge felt heat in her cheeks and her throat tightened. “He’s my  _ brother _ , I’ve been looking for him everywhere, you have to tell me!”

“I cannot. If the information of where our organization is located is found out by the Galra-”

“You think I’d betray my brother!?” Pidge demanded hotly.

Te-osh’s gaze turned hard. “You are a fool if you think the Galra do not have their ways of forcing fact from your lips.”

It is a fact of life that anything that rises must fall, eventually. Pidge’s mounting anger was no different, and as it collapsed, her chest felt hollow, and her eyes turned wet. “Please, I need to  _ know _ he’s okay. _ I need to know _ .”

“I cannot say,” Te-osh said.

Pidge pursed her lips, desperate to get something out of this dryad, anything about her brother’s whereabouts. Finally, she burst out, “I’m a Paladin of Voltron. Surely you can trust that I won’t fall prey to the Empire!”

Te-osh studied her face carefully. “Very well. I will trust you. Our base lies in the North, at the snowy peaks of the Border Mountains that separate Alterna from Altea. That is where Matt was going, and where you will find Slav. He can offer you more help, should Matt not have arrived there.”

“Thank you,” Pidge said, rubbing at her eyes with one hand and grasping Te-osh’s with the other. “Thank you so much.”

_ We cannot go immediately _ , Green’s voice echoed between Pidge’s ears, reluctant and thoughtful. Pidge exited the hut, greeted by her teammates looking up at her curiously. Pidge pursed her lips, carefully thinking over her options. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, taking a ready breath.

“Let’s go find the Yellow Lion.”

* * *

 

“Why does your father want the amulet of the Dragon King? Other than ultimate power, I mean. What exactly is it capable of?” Lance asked curiously, plucking a biscuit from a plate laden with quite a few. The generals were seated at the far end of the table, Lance in the seat to the left of the head, where Lotor was seated.

“The amulet controls dragons. Surely you know what  _ Voltron _ is? It isn’t just a name the first paladins gave themselves,” Lotor teased. Lance didn’t remember any dreams of Voltron itself, so he shook his head, frowning a bit as he did so. Lotor chuckled, patting Lance’s hand as if to reassure him. “Voltron is a dragon that can be summoned by the five paladins working together. In theory, the amulet grants the wearer the ability to control Voltron, thereby turning the tides and defeating, possibly dominating, the paladins and their lions.”

“The lions are gods,” Lance laughed nervously. “They can’t be controlled by some dragon.”

“Ah, but they can. Voltron is the essence of each lion. Voltron is, by all rights, a dragon god,” Lotor explained. “Many have tried to use the Dragon Amulet. The last being who did was defeated by my own father and his paladins. He was the Black Paladin, you know-”

“I’m well aware,” Lance grimaced, remembering the few dreams he’d had of the past, and Zarkon’s betrayal.

“Yes… well, I like to associate myself with his past, rather than his present. When he was still a good man,” Lotor muttered bitterly.

“You’re nothing like your father,” Lance proclaimed, suddenly feeling the need to defend the prince’s honor. “You’re a much better person, kinder by far! You-”

Lotor’s hand cupped Lance’s cheek, making the boy cut himself off with a flustered snap of his jaw. Lotor traced the healing cuts on his face, and he smiled, looking into Lance’s eyes with his pale silver. “It’s healing well. It shouldn’t scar. I’m glad. If that griffin had ruined such flawless skin, I’d be quite upset.”

Lance’s face burned, and he didn’t know what to say. The lions in his head growled fiercely, their anger rolling over Lance’s like water over a rock. “T-thank you.”

Lotor returned to his steak, sawing into it like nothing had happened. Confused, Lance looked to the generals, who all immediately turned to their meals as if they hadn’t been watching the scene curiously. Blushing madly, Lance looked down at his own plate and shoveled a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

Lotor took hold of Lance’s free hand, gripping it carefully, gently. “Thank you for your kind words, young dreamer. I am glad you do not see me as my father’s son.”

Lance tried not to think that the way Lotor refused to release his hand as they went on with their meal was just the slightest bit romantic.

“Tell me what you dreamt of last night?” Lotor requested with a gentle smile. Lance smiled back, describing what he remembered of his dreams.

* * *

 

“It’s good to recuperate between outings,” Coran had insisted when they returned.

The lions were perched above them all, on floating bars. Green was beside Black, to the left, while Blue was on the far right on her own. The floor was glowing with their colors, Pidge no longer looking sick at the green beneath her feet, instead poking at the map made out of dots of light. Hunk was with her, muttering with her about magic, asking Allura about ancient spells that might be in use on the map. Coran was beside them, blabbering about unrelated things as he offered them snacks and drinks.

Shiro was with Keith, and he would forever be grateful to the older  man for knowing when he needed silent company. Keith stared at the holographic Capital, a red dot glowing angrily, dangerously within.

“Shiro, why are we here?” Keith asked suddenly. Even he himself was unsure where the question came from, but it had struck him suddenly as they sat.

“What do you mean?” Shiro prompted, ever a stickler for specificity.

“Why are we here, in the palace? Why are we paladins? Why didn’t the Harbinger dream of some other group of strangers?” Keith asked.

Shiro hummed, thinking hard. “I don’t know, Keith. Fate is a tricky thing. The future is a tricky thing. I think, maybe, our hardships were seen by the gods. And they believed we could use them to make us stronger, to help the people of Altea. So they picked us to be it’s guardians.”

“I’m scared, Shiro,” Keith confessed. “I don’t- I’ve always been ready to die for you, Shiro, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, sighing in resignation.

“Well, now I have to live for you, and I don’t know if I can do that,” Keith admitted.

Shiro studied Keith carefully. “What’s the difference?”

“What?” Keith looked up at Shiro, confused.

“What changed your mind? What is it now that you have to stay alive for?” Shiro asked.

Keith stared at Shiro for a moment before turning away and staring at the red circle beneath his feet. “We’re a team now. I have to make sure all of you get out of every scrape okay. The whole world is depending on us- the five of us. And I can’t help but feel that I need to save the Harbinger, too. I don’t know why I was so set to sacrifice my life for yours before, but now… Now I have so many lives I need to protect, that I can’t just die on them.”

“I’m glad, Keith. I was so worried about you, for so long. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here, now,” Shiro insisted.

Keith hummed in response as Shiro clapped his shoulder. Shiro got to his feet, walking towards the rest of the people in the room. Above their heads, the lions perked up to pay attention. “Okay, Team, what’s the plan for getting the Yellow Lion from the Balmeran farmlands?”

“I’m thinking we sneak in under cover of darkness,” Pidge piped up. “If we leave now, we wouldn’t get there till sunset anyway.”

“If you know any silencing spells, we could use that too, to better keep us hidden,” Hunk said. “And remember, we don’t want to be caught by anyone, not even the trolls. We don’t know how willing they’d be to turn us in.”

“In that case, the darkness may not be enough to hide you all. Balmeran trolls used to be nocturnal, and they had quite brilliant night vision. If they’ve been working throughout the day, however, I don’t know how that would have affected them. Better to be safe than sorry, I’d say,” Coran chipped in.

“I know illusion spells, but I’ve never studied invisibility spells,” Pidge frowned.

“Then we’ll just have to be careful,” Shiro suggested. “And if anyone sees us, throw them off with your illusions.”

“Gotcha, will do,” Pidge nodded.

Keith cleared his throat, reminding the others as to his presence. “What about where the lion is? If Hunk isn’t in distress, the lion won’t burst out of nowhere like with Pidge. So we need to find him ourselves.”

“Usually the lions slumber within their domain. I expect that the Yellow Lion will be inside the center of this mountain here,” Allura pointed at the curved crescent moon mountain overlooking the farmlands.

Keith studied the map before him. It seemed to him, that if they played their cards right, they could avoid having to pass through the farms at all. But that would involve keeping to the borders, and that was where the Galra were most likely to be.

“How are we going to get in?” Keith asked, looking up from the map. “The Galra would be on the border, right? So that they don't have to rest with the trolls.”

“That makes sense,” Allura hummed thoughtfully, studying the map. “Zarkon was always very proud.”

“Did you never meet other dark elves?” Pidge asked, wrinkling her nose.

Allura blinked. “I-”

“It’s all about how they were raised. If we were raised being told Zarkon was a saint who single handedly dragged Althea to salvation, then they were likely taught about the inferiorities of other races. Like the books say about high elves,” Hunk explained.

“Excuse me, what!?” Allura demanded, looking offended.

“No offense intended, Princess.” Hunk bowed his head politely to the princess.

Coran chuckled, and waved a hand over the map, the clinging lights dispersing and falling to the floor. The glowing beneath their feet slowly ceased as well, and the lions drifted down so they were on the floor. “Enough sitting about. The Galra have had twelve hours now to warn Zarkon that we’re gathering the lions. I suggest you hurry to the Moon Harvest grounds.”

Shiro mounted Black easily, his legs fitting just behind her black leathery wings, red stripes running across the membranes. He offered an arm to Hunk, who went to climb on Black behind him. Pidge slid onto Green’s back easily, and Keith felt a bit jealous at how much like a warrior the young magician already looked.

“Coming on Green, Keith?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah, hold on-” As Keith stepped towards the green lioness and her paladin, Blue scooped him up in her mouth by his collar again. Keith groaned. “For Balmera’s sake!”

Allura laughed. “Blue thinks you her cub!”

“How strange indeed,” Coran said, an amused smile on his face. Blue landed again briefly, for Allura to mount her lion, but one the five were outside again, Blue was in the air, with Keith in her maw.

Coran waved them off, shouting after them for luck. Then they broke through the waterfall, all of them immediately drenched as they flew. Allura was laughing with delight, Pidge was whooping, Hunk was squeezing the life out of Shiro, and Keith could feel Blue laughing in her own special way at him. Black and Green roared, delighted to be in flight together, paladins on their backs, once again.

So many lonely centuries had passed for them. Keith could relate.


	17. I Saw a Shadow on the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That breakfast last chapter? Well, Lance didn't tell Lotor everything he dreamt of. Lance tries to shoot a bow, but the prince gets upset. Shay witnesses the paladins fight some Galra and realizes her own part to play in their destiny. Slav is troubled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first bit is a little confusing, because it takes place around the meal Lance shared with Lotor last chapter. Also, Lotor's keeping secrets from his generals! :O Who saw that coming? I brought Shay back, guys, I've been waiting for this for so long you have no idea! Also, have some short Slav foreshadowing. I apologize for how short and terrible this chapter is, but it just... felt done.

Lance woke up screaming, sweat slipping down his skin. He was breathing heavily, trying to escape the- the- the  _ what _ ? What was he running from? He couldn’t remember if it had had a name, if it had been anything tangible, anything real. Quickly, Lance grabbed the wooden pencil from the bedside table, grabbing some paper. He stumbled out of the bed, the blanket clinging to him as he collapsed to the floor. He scribbled what he remembered, a dark force, impossibly dangerous, pure black attacking, a fiend of incredible strength.

By the time he caught his breath, by the time he calmed his heart, he had covered five sheets of aging paper with images of the dark, formless shape wreaking havoc on Altea. The final image was of the paladins, on their lion mounts, standing ready for battle at the very base of a raging shadowy giant stretching miles into the sky.

Lance folded over, his head between his knees as he prayed to the Lion Goddess for comfort in the language his mother spoke to him when he needed to be soothed. He prayed, and prayed, begging the deity to reveal these visions to be false, the shadow still raging in the depths of his mind, still releasing that unholy shriek.

Tears streaked his cheeks, and when Axca came to collect him for breakfast, Lance stashed the papers beneath his bed and splashed water from the wash basin over his face before letting her in. At breakfast, Lance let Lotor know of all his visions, except for the last. The shadows raged and shrieked and stampeded in his dreams, so horrible, so powerful, that he still could not imagine they were real. He dared not give the vision voice, terrified that it would make it a true look into the future.

Lotor seemed disappointed in Lance’s visions, confessing that they did not seem to be of any importance to his mission. Lance apologized, and the prince refused to accept the apology, squeezing Lance’s hand as he assured the Auger that he was not at fault.

Then Lotor and his generals retreated to his study, in the library, and Lance was left alone. Unsure what to do with himself, as the meadow was off limits unless he had protection, and the library was occupied, Lance returned to his bedroom.

Bored, he slipped the pages back out from under the bed and studied his work. The shadow had been colored in with the graphite pencil so hard that the page had torn a couple of times, small pinpoints of overpressure. The eyes of the creature were numerous, scattered all over the shadow’s body, and Lance remembered their purple hue, violent and frightening to behold. Lance shuddered, pushing the pages back under his bed and exiting the room to roam the halls.

It wasn’t long before that, too, got boring. Lance was quickly discovering how short of an attention span he had now that he had options for how he’d spend his day. Back in his cell, he spent all his time daydreaming of being free. Now, he had some freedom, and daydreaming simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. He was growing antsy, he wanted to get out there and  _ do _ things.

So Lance began to check out the different rooms throughout the fortress. The first was merely a bedroom, the bed unprepared and everything covered in dust. Lance skipped to the next, a few doors down because he assumed the rest must be more bedrooms, and the last door in the hallway was spaced farther away from the rest of them.

When Lance stepped into the room, he stared in awe at what appeared to be a small arena. One wall was laden with weapons, a ladder to one side to reach some of the mounted blades and maces. Over the stone floor, mapping where the actual arena was, lay a soft mat. Lance walked around the room, skirting around the mat, before coming to a stop in front of the wall of weapons.

Lance studied each blade, each spear. Then he spotted a bow to one side, a rack of arrows beside it. Lance had seen a bow in action in his dreams. It seemed simple enough, to pull the drawstring and let arrows fly. Curiously, he pulled the bow off its mount, noticing targets hung on the wall across the room.

Lance plucked an arrow from the rack, deciding to try his hand at archery. Stringing the bow was more difficult than it appeared, but eventually he managed it, only a little bit out of breath once he finished. Keeping the arrow on the string was difficult too, as Lance pulled the drawstring back as far as he could, straining as he did so.

“Lance!” Lotor’s voice startled him, and the arrow slipped from his fingers to the floor, the drawstring slapping against the soft flesh of his left arm. He yelped, dropping the bow to the ground and clutching his arm. Lotor was by his side quickly. “You shouldn’t have been in here, you could have hurt yourself much worse.”

“I was doing fine,” Lance insisted, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Lotor glared at him, pulling at Lance’s wrist to check on the stinging skin.

“You’re lucky you didn’t try any of the blades, or you’d have cut yourself. Playing with weapons is dangerous, even a bow,” Lotor scolded, satisfied that Lance hadn’t cut himself with the string.

“I just want to be able to protect myself! And you all were busy!” Lance complained.

“You can’t teach yourself how to weild a weapon without supervision,” Lotor scoffed.

“Then have Zethrid teach me, she’s always training anyway,” Lance pointed out.

“That does sound like a good idea,” Zethrid muttered, not loud enough for Lance to hear, but plenty loud enough for Lotor to pick up. He bristled, shooting a glare that Lance didn’t see at the halfbreed woman.

“Absolutely not. My generals are not here for your amusement, Lance. I can spare Axca and Ezor for when you’d like to frolic, but Zethrid and Narti are very busy women,” Lotor said curtly.

Lance shrank in on himself, clutching his wounded arm to his chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound inconsiderate, or ungrateful.”

Lotor softened, putting an arm around the boy. “No, no, it is my fault. I could have spared Ezor for your company, and allowed Axca to brief her later. I’m sorry.”

Lotor led Lance back to his bedroom, while Ezor unstrung the bow and hung it back on it’s hooks, Axca placing the arrow on the rack.

The generals watched Lance and Lotor leave before turning to speak amongst each other. Zethrid spoke up first, “He has something more planned that he isn’t telling us.”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Ezor frowned. “You’d think he would want him to learn how to protect himself at least.”

“Zethrid and Narti are not so busy that they cannot spare time for a little self defense training,” Axca agreed, not exactly addressing anyone as she stared hard at the door.

“I would lay my life on the line for Lotor, but I don’t like how secretive he’s being about the Dragon Amulet. There’s something he isn’t saying. Something big that involves that kid,” Zethrid deduced. Narti nodded once.

“That’s too bad. The kid has the biggest heart eyes when he looks at Lotor. He’d be good for him, right? Like that fairy tale,” Ezor smiled sadly, placing a hand on her cocked hip. “The one with the enchanted castle, and the cursed prince.”

* * *

 

The Empire’s army was comprised of dark elves, who had originated in the caves of the Border Mountains and been mostly nocturnal since, so the cover of night turned out to be quite a miserable cover. In short, everything had gone to shit for the paladins as soon as they attempted to infiltrate, and it was obvious to Shay.

All around her, Shay could see Balmeran trolls panicking, screeching and caught in the middle of skirmishes, or cowering in their huts and watching in horror as Imperials fought with the paladins, five warriors of rather interesting skill, and three enormous lions with terrifying roars. Shay and many other Balmerans had heard the stories of the paladins from their grandparents, who heard from their grandparents. Voltron wasn’t here to hurt them.

But Voltron wasn’t invulnerable either. Shay yelped, almost running out into the fields when she saw an Imperial soldier overpower the largest of the paladins. Rax grabbed her arm, tugging her back into the safety of their hut. Shay watched a smaller paladin immediately come rushing to his teammate’s aide.

“You should not go running into danger! The paladins can take care of themselves!” Rax snapped, tugging his sister away from the door to join their cowering family members.

“The paladins do not have all their lions- they have only begun their sacred duty. Who is to say they can handle this themselves?” Shay argued.

“Who is to say they cannot handle it? You make assumptions without evidence, Shay. They are not of our concern. Our family must stay together, our family must remain safe,” Rax snapped, glaring at his sister.

“Rax is correct, my dear one,” Mother sighed. “If you went out to help, you may not make it back again.”

“Our family must remain whole,” Father added. “We are all we have.”

“What use is family when it does nothing to make us free?” Grandmother scowled, catching Mother and Father by surprise.

Father began to argue. “Mother-”

“No. Shay is right. These paladins are new, untrained. They must be aided in their sacred duty. Our deity will not steal our Shay from us so soon in life. I trust Balmera to protect her tonight,” Grandmother announced. “Go, Shay. Aide the paladins. Fulfill your part in their destiny, no matter how small, it is vital.”

“You have no way to know this,” Rax snapped hotly.

“Rax!” Mother said, scandalized. “Do not snap at your grandmother this way.”

“Balmera has done us no good these last decades! Still we suffer beneath Galra rule, still we have only our families to hold onto! And you say now we must sacrifice our last possession- each other- to the will of gods who care nothing of us!?” Rax demanded.

“I will go, Rax. You cannot stop me. If you try, you are no better than the Empire,” Shay argued.

“Do not go,” Rax pleaded. “I beg you- do not let them take my sister from me.”

“I will return,” Shay promised. “I do not believe it is in my path to perish tonight.”

Rax released her arm, shrinking back into his mother’s embrace. “I will hold that promise in my heart, Shay. I expect your return before dawn.”

Shay looked to her grandmother, who smiled kindly at her. “Go, my grandchild.”

With no further words, Shay ran out into the fields, trying her best to see what was going on. The large paladin from before was staggering off towards the crescent mountain, the one that housed the cave temple of the Trithestic gods. Imperial soldiers were gaining on him, but his steps were slowing, a trail of blood in his wake.

Shay hesitated no further, running to the paladins aide, a large stone scooped into her hands on the way there. Wielding the stone like it was part of a hammer, her arm being the handle, Shay slammed the stone into one Imperial’s helmet, the metal crumpling suddenly beneath the speed and weight of the stone. The Imperial collapsed immediately, and the paladin looked up in surprise, noticing the second Imperial on his tail.

Shay tossed the rock at the second Imperial, pinning the soldier to the ground with a cry and the sound of cracking ribs.

“What the- we’re supposed to be helping you!” The paladin cried out, as Shay wrenched an axe from the dead Imperial’s grip and went to sling the large paladin’s arm over her shoulder.

“You looked like you needed help! I feel it may be my duty to ensure that you may fulfill your destiny, Paladin of Voltron!” Shay announced.

The Paladin studied her as she aided his steps towards the crescent mountain. “My name is Hunk.”

“I am Shay. Glad to meet you, Paladin Hunk,” Shay proclaimed.

* * *

 

Slav did not have the ability to see the future like a child blessed by the Lion Goddess could, but he could see “bad endings” very well. Mainly, it was things like if he prayed, he could see how badly the decision would turn out, but occasionally Slav saw horrible things happen if a coin landed on the opposite side, or if a die landed on a different number. Bad things triggered entirely by chance.

Right now, his mind was empty, no bad endings, but no feeling like that meant there must only be good endings for this decision. It wasn’t a particularly big decision. It was simple, small. Practically pointless in the scheme of things, and the lack of visions made it clear to Slav that it certainly must be so.

Except that in this context, it was a rather important decision. While he couldn’t see a vision of anything endings particularly horribly, he didn’t feel the relief that came with knowing it wouldn’t end badly either. In fact, he felt anxious, like whoever wrote fate had yet to decide whether or not the outcome of this decision would be bad or good.

Slav thought about the decision. It was so simple, so insignificant, but it could change everything. This simple decision, the one decision that had Slav stumped on whether it would bring a good or bad outcome, on how it would affect the battle against Lord Zarkon to protect both Altea and Alterna alike was whether or not a boy opened a book.


	18. Yellow, the Happiest Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk is just the most impressed by Shay. Some rebels have a little meeting to chat about important things. Who is Rose? Hunk talks to a goddess trapped in her own domain. Lance has another Lion Vision Spasm.

Hunk bit down on his bottom lip and inhaled sharply as Shay tugged the makeshift bandage tighter around his gut. She paused, studying his face before sighing and returning to her work. They only had a few moments respite maximum, hidden in the temple as they were. Hunk could hear the lions roaring in battle, could hear the clash of weapons. “I am sorry, Paladin Hunk.”

“Don’t be. I should get used to it, right?” Hunk laughed uncomfortably as Shay began to knot up the bandage. “I should have enough energy to attempt a heal soon.”

“Do not bother. Save that for later, as there will no doubt be more wounds in need of healing, and you will need all your energy,” Shay reasoned. A cry from the fields made them both wince as it emphasized her point.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll save my energy. Thanks,” Hunk smiled weakly.

“You were headed for this temple,” Shay gestured around them, her own eyes following her movements as she studied the cave walls around them. “Why?”

“I felt the Yellow Lion calling to me,” Hunk explained. “He’s somewhere in here.”

“The yellow one,” Shay hummed. “Then you are one of the supporters, the steady pair that lifts the five Paladins to greater glory, to greater strength. It is a great honor to meet you, Yellow Paladin.”

Hunk grimaced at the way she held him in such high regard despite never having met him. “Please stop. You barely know me, you don’t know how well I’ll do as the Yellow Paladin.”

“If the gods will says you will make a good Yellow Paladin, I do not see how they could be wrong,” Shay commented, the thick brows common to trolls furrowed in confusion. It only made Hunk’s nerves worse.

At first when it had been confirmed that he was really a paladin, he had to support Pidge, make sure she was handling the loss of autonomy well. He hadn’t had time for handling his own emotions about being a paladin. Now, he was absolved of that responsibility, and he had far too much time to doubt his own worth to the team. Hunk was a healer, sure, great for support. But he could barely wield the sword he’d been using, and his coordination with it was all kinds of offin combat. He was lucky to have survived the fights they’d been in so far, and even then he wound up with a stab wound in his gut.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t make a good paladin,” Hunk shook his head. “I get nervous, and clumsy, and the only thing I can do right is take care of people.”

“I do not see why that cannot be a trait worthy of a paladin. You must take care of your team, no?” Shay asked. Hunk sighed.

“It’s different. I’m not built for fighting,” Hunk explained.

“But you are,” Shay disagreed. “You are wide and heavy-set, good for blocking and protecting. You are strong, good for wielding more powerful weapons. Anyone can fight- you simply need to try. Perhaps you could use an axe? I’ve never held one before, but I used one quite efficiently in battle.”

“You’ve never held an axe before!?” Hunk exclaimed, shocked. Shay had practically bulldozed dozens of Imperials with the axe she’d stolen off one.

“I am strong, it is sharp. All I need to do is swing,” Shay shrugged. “We should go find your lion, Paladin Hunk. The battle will surely be won if you can rejoin it astride its back.”

* * *

 

“I apologize for calling you all here so late in the evening,” Slav began, looking around the table at the rebels around him.

“It must be important, no?” Sven pointed out, shrugging. “I trust you would not have called us here for anything less than vital.”

“Yes, yes,” Slav muttered, distractedly, already thinking on how best to break the news.

“Matt and I weren't doing much. We’re still waiting on you to okay the attack plan,” Olia reminded.

“Yes. About that… I can no longer see the path ahead,” Slav announced to the gathered Swords of Gamara of Alterna and Freedom Fighters of Altea. All four of the figures around the table straightened, leaning forward in concern. Slav hurried to continue. “All I see is a book, waiting to be opened, and I cannot see what will happen if it is opened, or left closed. The future has been blocked off to me otherwise, so I am left to conclude that this seemingly insignificant decision is far more vital than we understand.”

“What’s the book?” Olia asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“It is the legend of Voltron,” Slav said. “How it came to be, the different mythologies of Voltron, and the truth they are derived from.”

“So you're saying Voltron really is back?” Sven piped up, his accent thick. “I had heard word, but the Freedom Fighters informed me it was just rumor.”

Slav hummed. “It appears to me that there is exact truth in this. Voltron has returned to Altea.”

“Then we’re saved!” Matt exclaimed. “Zarkon couldn't possibly stand against the might of the Paladins.”

“And what of Alterna?” Sven demanded. “Will your nation’s heroes be willing to aide us against Empress Fala despite having shown no historical concern for outside countries?”

“We will ask them too,” Olia said diplomatically. “But the paladins are more powerful than us. We can’t exactly force them if they choose not to help.”

Sven nodded at Olia, the two having formed a strange sort of solidarity when their two rebellions first met, here in Slav’s mountain cave.

The fourth rebel around the table put her sun kissed hands on the table. “Do you see anything other than the closed book when you try to look ahead? Who is meant to open it, if it is meant to open?”

“A boy,” Slav sighed. “He is human, young. And he is Goddess blessed.”

The woman’s hands curled into fists. “I see.”

Sven put his hand over the woman’s, giving her a sympathetic grimace. Slav sighed, focusing on his hands as he thought, carefully. “I have been wondering, if perhaps, my vision means that Voltron will fail.”

“That’s ridiculous, Voltron is Altea’s only hope,” Matt said.

“You said yourself, Slav, that there is no way to know for certain what it means. It's such an insignificant action that this all depends on, and we don't know either outcome,” Olia reminded. “All we can do now is hope.”

“And fight,” The woman proclaimed, getting to her feet and lowering her hood for the first time that night. Her hair was dark and wavy, her eyes a hard brown, and her face set in determination. “I call myself Rose, I am an agent of the Swords of Gamara, though I hail from Altea’s beaches. Whatever it takes to find that Goddess blessed boy- you have my steel to aide you.”

Matt stood up to match her. “We’ll fight alongside the Paladins, find this Goddess blessed guy, and save Altea from Emperor Zarkon.”

Sven joined them standing. “And Alterna from Empress Fala.”

Olia stood up finally, smirking at Sven. “And we’ll do  _ that  _ with or without the paladins. Whatever it takes to make sure we all get what we want.”

“Your positive attitudes never cease to amaze me, when so much could go wrong,” Slav said with a small, wistful sigh. He puzzled over his dream a few minutes more, picturing slim brown fingers reaching for the leather bound book sitting inconspicuously on the desk. He worried that perhaps if the boy opened the book, that some knowledge within would put the paladins in danger, but he couldn’t be sure.

* * *

 

Hunk was knelt before the statues of the Tritheistic gods while Shay was fending off Imperials, Keith having joined them to fight by her side. Hunk bowed his head and clasped his hands, whispering frantic prayers to the Lion Goddess.

“Oh, Lion Goddess, guide my heart, lead me true,” Hunk whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was asking her to reveal that he wasn’t really a paladin, that this was all a dream, or to reveal the path to the Yellow Lion. Maybe it was both? He was so, so confused. Maybe he was asking for clarity of mind.

“Is that really what you want?” A woman’s voice had Hunk snapping his eyes open and looking up.

A woman with long flowing silver hair that spiraled around her looked down from a dais, her eyes large and piercing and blue. Her cheeks were painted with little pink crescents and her skin was an even, dark color.

“Allura?” Hunk asked, confused.

The woman chuckled. “No, I am the Lion Goddess, young healer. Do you not see where we are?”

Hunk looked around him, gaping as he saw endless fields of purple, three-petal flowers. His heart beat rapidly as he remembered the legends and fairy tales about the Lion Goddess’s domain. “The Juniberry Fields.”

“Yes,” the Lion Goddess said, looking a little sad. “My home, and for the last several millennia, my prison.”

“Then how do you affect the world? How did you bring me here?” Hunk asked.

The Lion Goddess sighed, sitting down on an opulent throne as it formed around her. “Through great exhaustion. I will not be able to contact the mortal world for some time after this, but I had to know: why have my new paladins been so concerned about their place as paladins?”

“Why have… oh.” Hunk sheepishly played with the He, of his shirt.

“Please tell me, little healer,” the Lion Goddess requested. “I am not as nurturing as Balmera, but I should hope I am not intimidating either.”

“I- well, we’re just kids. Zarkon’s been around for decades, centuries maybe. It’s hard to believe that we can do anything about it,” Hunk explained.

The field around them began to fade away as the Lion Goddess nodded. “Unfortunately, you will have to try. You will not be alone, there are ,any rebel groups willing to join you in your noble quest. I understand that the task may be daunting, but please. There are so many suffering at his hand, so many who will only suffer more if what I have seen coming is not stopped.”

“What have you seen?” Hunk asked. There were almost no flowers now, only the ones around his ankles remaining. He could barely see the woman before him, her form slowly being swallowed by the mist.

“There is so much you do not know, yet, little healer. I do not have time to explain it all, in fact, my time wanes. I must go now, but I can tell you, Zarkon died years before the paladins did,” the Lion Goddess informed, her voice fading into silence as she vanished, leaving Hunk surrounded by white. Then he gasped as he fell back on all fours in the temple.

Hunk looked around, hearing Keith and Shay battling some Imperials. He needed to help them, he needed to do something, he had to do something helpful. The mountain shook all around them, blue crystals sprouting from the floor beneath them and creating a barrier between Shay and Keith and the fight beyond, spearing any Imperials that had been to close. Hunk promptly lost his dinner on the floor.

“Thank you, Balmera!” Shay grinned up at the statue of her deity.

“You alright, Hunk?” Keith asked, the question sounding awkward and disjointed.

Hunk smiled. “Yeah, I’m alright, thanks for worrying.”

“Shiro will be needing help in a minute,” Keith growled, glaring at the crystals.

Hunk’s thoughts wandered to the Lion Goddess. If she thought he was worthy of riding the Yellow Lion to battle, and his friends were in danger, why didn’t he go aide the, already? He’d need a weapon, yeah, but any from a fallen Imperial would do. Hunk picked up a blade. Not the weapon he’d choose, but good enough for now.

Like Shay said, Hunk was large and strong and this was sharp. He’d do enough damage. Shiro needed him. The world needed him.

A lion’s roar echoed through the cave as the crystals retreated into the stone, and Hunk felt courage fill his chest, Shay and Keith at either side of him.

A yellow lion with a wild mane and white markings leapt into view, blue eyes proud and kind. He held his head up high, offering his smooth back for Hunk to mount. And together, they rode into battle, Yellow roaring and Hunk crying out for the glory of Voltron.

All he had to do was swing.

* * *

 

Lance woke up in the middle of the night, his left leg screaming in agony, his vision blurred as he saw all around him towering mountains, rocky cave walls, an endless quarry stretching above his head. Lance recognized this, he knew what was happening.

He turned around as he felt the ground shake, and bursting through a cave wall came a large yellow lion with a wild mane and white markings, creamy, warm, and close. Lance’s heart swelled as he realized what this meant, and his eyes watered as he called out, joyfully, “Yellow…”

The Lion roared, proud, happy.

Then Lance was back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, all the visions he may have had before this one forgotten entirely. Lance leapt to his feet excitedly, running to his window, looking out at the sunflowers under the moonlight.

“You’re almost all together again,” Lance whispered. He heard four voices in his head, celebrating, cheering.

Lance couldn’t help but imagine his own family, somewhere out there, still waiting for him, but coming together despite his absence. He didn’t know whether to feel good or bad anymore.

_ Red is not far behind, _ Blue insisted.  _ Our sister will return to our Pride. _

_ Just as you will return to yours, my Cub, _ Black announced.

“Will I?” Lance asked, more than a little bitter. “I couldn’t survive on my own for an hour, you all know that that griffin nearly killed me. And they won’t know to look for me here.”

_ We will come for you, _ Green promised.  _ When our duty is done and we can gather my paladin’s brother, I will get you. _

Lance smiled sadly as he counted the stars. “Thank you, Green.”

He watched the stars twinkle and smiled. Somewhere, somehow, he was sure one of his family was doing the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really subpar on this chapter.


	19. Love in a Time of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thace realizes some problems with the way the paladins are going about the Lion Search. He composes a letter to his sister. The aftermath of the battle for the Yellow Lion has Pidge expanding her familial ties. Lance has a schoolyard crush and becomes a pampered princess. A woman returns to her roots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance does indeed kiss Lotor in this chapter, because I gave up trying to write the scene with purely platonic manipulation, but do be aware that any of Lance's feelings are entirely one-sided and only developed because no one has ever been this nice to him before.

Zarkon roared and raged in his bedroom, his witch nowhere to be seen, but likely also angered into tantrum. Thace was stood beside Prorok, but none of the other generals had brought their lieutenants.

“What has the Emperor so upset?” Prorok demanded.

“The paladins have retrieved all the lions. The only remaining lion lies within these walls,” Throk explained. “They will be coming here.”

“And when they do,” Sendak announced, smirking. “We will be ready. I’ve been waiting to test the Champion’s mettle.”

“They’re coming _here_?” Marvok exclaimed. “When?”  
“We have the Red Lion,” Sendak decided, placing his flesh hand on his hip. “They’ll come running as soon as they’ve caught their breath.”

Thace winced at the very idea. He’d need to message the Blade, figure out the plan. If the paladins simply ran in unprepared, they were going to lose. Perhaps the Blade could intercept them. If only they still had the Harbinger available to them.

“I’m a bit uncomfortable not knowing for sure when they’ll strike. They could decide that they don’t need the Red Lion yet,” Marvok pointed out, folding his arms.

“That’s not how the paladins operate. They’ve already liberated three lions, and found the Black Lion, within a week. They’ll be here soon for ours,” Throk scowled.

“And we will be here to stop them,” Prorok added.

“Commander Prorok, I must return to my duties,” Thace said as the commanders finished speaking.

“Be on your way, Lieutenant,” Prorok dismissed.

Thace bowed his head before turning and walking down the hallways, the violet stained bricks around him seeming to shimmer under the flickering torchlight. He began to craft a letter in his mind’s eye, thinking on how to hide his message within simple, harmless words. Ulaz was always the better of them at relaying secret messages, but they had trained together, and Thace was a brilliant agent of the Blade.

When he had crafted the full letter, he had just reached his chamber door in the barracks building. He sat down at his berry colored mahogany desk and began to pen out what he had planned, picturing it first in his mind, then placing the well planned words on the parchment.

_ Dearest Krolia, I hope this letter finds you well... _

* * *

 

“Sit still,” Hunk said, a steadying hand on Pidge’s shoulder as he leaned the small girl against the wall. Balmeran trolls all around them watched in quiet concern over their heroes. Keith let out a huff of pain as he shifted against the wall, his injured leg jerking upwards.

“Didn’t Hunk just tell you to sit still?” Pidge snorted, then groaned as her ribs ached.

“Allura, Shiro, you two aren’t too bad off, are you?” Hunk asked, looking over his shoulder at the elder two paladins.

“Not at all, thank you,” Allura informed. “It’s just a couple of scratches.”

“My arm took the most damage, and it seems to be self repairing,” Shiro commented. His eyes were fixed on his stone arm as it began to weave itself together, rock twisting and bending in impossible ways.

“That’s amazing,” Pidge grinned, craning her neck to get a better look over Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk’s fingers pressed against her ribs and she retracted in on herself with a hiss.

“Sorry, but it won’t hurt anymore in a minute,” Hunk promised.

“I know how healing magic works, stupid, we’ve done this before,” Pidge said through gritted teeth as Hunk put more pressure on the bloody scrapes across her ribcage. Then the pain began to ease as Hunk’s eyes glowed with the light turquoise of magic. Pidge sighed as her wounds began the strange sensation of closing. Hunk moved his fingers now and then to avoid blocking the skin’s path.Once her skin had knitted back together, Pidge could breathe easy once again, and she sighed.

_ We are glad you are alright, _ Green said, and Pidge looked up at her lion. Who was we? Did she mean the other lions? None of the lions were focused on Pidge, though. Black was busy with Shiro, checking him over for hidden wounds. Yellow was standing to one side, observing the Balmerans as they checked on one another after the aftermath of the battle. Blue was shrunk down to the size of a house cat, wrapped around Allura’s neck like a scarf and meowing happily.

_ I mean the Harbinger, _ Green explained, sounding and looking amused. Pidge frowned, mulling that over carefully. She was pulled out of her musings when Hunk slumped against the wall, exhausted.

“Hunk!?” Pidge exclaimed, alarmed. Keith had gotten to his feet, tentatively placing weight on his previously broken leg, but now he was quickly dropping to his knees to check on the Yellow Paladin.

“What’s wrong with him?” Keith asked. Pidge gripped Hunk’s shirt to steady him and felt something wet beneath her hand. She looked down to see blood seeping through the cloth.

“Oh my gods, Hunk’s bleeding!” Pidge exclaimed.

“What?” Keith looked at the growing red spot on Hunk’s shirt and blanched. “But he’s a healer! Why not just heal himself?”

“Healing takes energy, Keith!” Pidge snapped. “Obviously he’s exhausted himself handling your broken leg because you can’t get out of the way of a mace!”

“Me!? Maybe he’d have been fine if you didn’t get your chest shredded by a whip!” Keith retorted.

“Pidge, Keith, cool it. Arguing won’t help him,” Shiro commanded sharply. Both teens fell silent. “Get Hunk on Yellow, we can get him medical attention at the Castle.”

“Coran is an expert healer,” Allura agreed. “High elves have no shortage of energy to spare, especially him.”

Keith pulled Hunk’s arm over his shoulder, the larger boy weighing heavily down on him. Still, he began to tow him towards Yellow. Pidge looked to Green, who almost seemed to smile at her.  _ Everything will be fine. You’ll all make it. _

“You guys go with him, Allura and I will stay behind to talk to the Balmerans and help them clean up,” Shiro said. Keith nodded, climbing onto Yellow to keep Hunk secure. Pidge slid easily onto Green. The two lions looked at each other, sharing a glint in their eyes.

_ I’m ready if you are, Yellow. _

Pidge helped in surprise as suddenly Green and Yellow took off into the sky, seeming to chase each other through the clouds like they were playing. Pidge was reminded of the way her brother held her books above her head, telling her she had to get outside more often.

“You’re going to be pale as paste if you keep this up, Pidge!” He would always tell her, with his smirk spread wide on his face. Absentmindedly, Pidge ran a thumb over the freckles on her fingers. She missed him.

Well, she had Hunk, and Keith, and Shiro right now. They could be like her brothers. And Allura could be like her sister. And by whichever gods actually existed, Pidge wasn’t about to lose them.

* * *

 

Lance was getting a little tired of the voices in his head. Blue would say something, then Black, then Yellow, then Green, then they’d start to overlap, and it was hard to focus on anything with all of them in his mind. It was hard to hear anything going on around him. Lotor and his generals were obviously beginning to worry, but Lance kept brushing them off. It had only been a few hours since breakfast, and they’d left him in his room with his headache.

“Are you alright, Love?”

Lance looked up, startled that there was enough silence for him to have caught it. The lions weren’t speaking at all anymore. “Lotor! Hello.”

“Hello,” Lotor echoed, looking bemused.

“I’m much better now,” Lance assured, feeling heat in his cheeks as he recalled what Lotor had said only moments ago. He buried his hands in the blankets between his legs, hoping Lotor couldn’t tell how nervous he was.

“I’m glad. I was worried during breakfast, you looked so distraught,” Lotor mused, sitting on the edge of Lance’s bed. Lance stared at his silver hair, entranced by the way it fell like a waterfall down his back.

“I was just thinking,” Lance said, forcing his gaze away from Lotor’s silky locks. His eyes fell on the sunflowers outside his window.

Lotor followed Lance’s gaze and sighed. “I wish we could send you after your family, Love, you know I do. I just worry about you.”

“I know,” Lance said, his heart aching as he thought about what his life might have been like had he never been taken from his family. “You’re not keeping me trapped here, it’s my own fault.”

“You do  _ like _ it here, I hope?” Lotor asked, the perfect image of concern.

“I don’t dislike it,” Lance shrugged. “I’ve never  _ had _ to like a place I was staying. It’s always been something beyond my control.”

“Well, if you have any complaints, I’ll do my best to accommodate them,” Lotor assured.

Lance thought about that carefully. “Complaints?”

“Yes, any at all,” Lotor assured.

Lance took a look at his quarters. “It’s too small.”

“Is it?” Lotor studied the room scrutinizingly. “I suppose it is rather cramped.”

Emboldened to go on, Lance said, “The window isn’t big enough. I want something I can walk through, with a balcony.”

Lotor smiled at him, amused. “I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

“It’s bland,” Lance announced, getting to his feet. “I want curtains. Blue, or red. The walls are purple- I’ve seen enough purple for three lifetimes. It’s cold, I don’t have nearly enough blankets. I want a wardrobe! I’ve never had one before. And I want it filled with dresses! My sister used to look so pretty in dresses! And- and I’ve been wearing all of your clothes the past few days, and I want- I want to have a private bath. Something nice and comfortable.”

When Lance settled, he was met with Lotor chuckling. He flushed brightly, embarrassed. Lotor stood up and placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I’ll be sure to try my very best to gather something together for you.”

Lance grinned brightly. “Thank you.”

Lotor moved to caress Lance’s cheek, a soft look on his face. “It is my pleasure to help you get comfortable here, Lance.”

Lance blushed furiously, the way Lotor said his name making his heart do little flips, and releasing a swarm of butterflies into his chest. Gods above, Lance had never felt this way before, about anyone. A tingling warmth buzzed in his fingers, toes, and cheeks, making his smile wide across brown, sun starved cheeks.

Lance’s first kiss was perhaps the greatest moment of his life, and when it was finished, he decided that he would never want to have shared it with anyone else.

* * *

_ Dearest Krolia, I hope this letter finds you well. It seems that the paladins have become quite the nuisance to the Empire. They have retrieved four of the five Voltron Lion Spirits and will likely be coming to the Capital next. Unfortunately, this means I will not be able to visit you and your calf for a time, but I will try my best to do so soon. Give him love from Uncle Thace. I will write you again with further details as to when I am available. With love, Thace. _

Krolia frowned, folding the parchment once again. The young boy looked up at her expectantly, and she smiled, handing him some gold. “Thank you, little calf. Off you run.”

The boy scurried off with the coin, as if he were afraid she’d find something displeasing in the letter, and take back her money.

Krolia knew Thace didn’t mean anything by what he wrote, but all the same she remembered, painfully, her long gone calf. It had been for his own good that she removed him from the Empire, but every day she regretted her choice.

She shook the thoughts from her head, and looked at the folded letter in her hands. The paladins were in danger and Thace was asking her to inform the Blade. Usually she carted military strategies to the Blade, not anything like this. This had been something Ulaz would inform the Blade of, thanks to foresight from the Harbinger. But now… now the paladins didn’t have that safety net. Not that they ever realized it was there to begin with.

Krolia sighed. She’d take this information to the Blade. Slav’s foresight would be of great help here, but she couldn’t remember if he had returned to his mountain hovel or not.

No matter what, however, Krolia would have to get to the Blade. This wasn’t just a message she could relay, like codes plans. She had to meet with them in person for something so important.

Krolia lifted a wooden panel off the floor, revealing her old armor- a deep violet black, so dark it could even be blue, magic shimmering across the surface in purple bursts of light. Her blade had long since been left with her mate, in order to protect their calf, but the armor should give her enough identification as an agent of a Blade. She hadn’t seen her fellow Blades in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who Valoria's kid is. It's easy, I'm really bad at mystery stuff.
> 
> Edit: As of the new season (season 5) I’ve renamed Valoria. I wasn’t attached to the name, anyway. Unfortunately, I had hoped Voltron wouldn’t name her something with a K, but... alas.


	20. How Does Free Really Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our beloved paladins are beginning to make some semblance of a plan to get the Red Lion! Lance is a sad boy with a sad fate and a sad life, but Ezor is set to make it a little less sad for now. The Blade does some planning of its own. What does free even feel like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I really, really liked season five... and let me JUST say... I'm so glad I gave a certain group of people code names. Also, I've changed Valoria's name. I'm a little miffed that Voltron named her with a K name, because I actually tried really hard not to do that. I had, like, thirteen name options, and I immediately crossed out all the K's. Whatever, though, her name is still really pretty. All that said, this chapter feels a little... not-so-good? Meh.

“We’ll need to be smart about what we do next,” Shiro cautioned, as Coran was finishing up with Hunk’s wounds in another room and Keith was moving his leg experimentally. “We can’t just run up to the castle, attack, and expect to survive.”

“We could use the sewers,” Pidge suggested. “That’s how you got out of the palace, that’s how we’ll get back in.”

“The sewers let out in the river, if we enter from there we’ll be seen by the lookouts. The lions aren’t exactly stealthy mounts,” Shiro reminded.

_ Excuse me _ , Black protested in his mind. He saw her tail flick irritably in the corner of his eye. He gave her a quick mental apology.

“But we won’t be seen if we time it right. The Galra in the Capital run on a timetable,” Keith piped up.

“Right! If we can figure out their patrol schedule, we should be able to find a window of time to sneak in!” Pidge proclaimed, excited at the progress they were making.

“Where does this sewer let out?” Allura asked.

“There are places all through the Capital that the sewer opens to, but the exit we want should put us right in the courtyard,” Shiro explained, remembering how Ulaz had smuggled him out of the castle.

“Which exit is that?” Allura asked.

“If memory serves, seven access ports span from the river to the courtyard. There’s a lot of space between each one, so we should be able to outrun anyone who follows us in. Unfortunately, that would mean making an exit early, or late. Which means that to succeed, we have to enter at exactly the right moment, unseen,” Shiro looked meaningfully at Keith and Pidge. “We don’t have any margin for error, guys.”

“Sounds risky,” Keith muttered, staring hard at the map all around them.

“We have to try,” Allura proclaimed, waving a hand angrily through the map, disturbing the little beads of light. They sank back into the floor, melting together in the turquoise glow.

“I’m not saying don’t try. I’m saying, maybe we should get help,” Keith elaborated. “When I was looking out for myself, I just had to make sure I survived. It wasn’t hard to keep to myself before the Harbinger announced I was a paladin- and even then, they didn’t send many people after me. Now we’re a threat.”

“Keith’s right,” Shiro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his remaining flesh fingers. They’d been unexpected at the Balmeran farm grounds, and been joined by a few brave trolls, and still they’d suffered casualties. Pidge’s ribs were grazed, tearing up the skin and muscles outside. Keith’s leg had been horribly twisted, bone visible among blood and flesh. Then there was Hunk, apparently having sustained some wounds himself. Not to mention the wounds the few Balmeran trolls who aided them had accumulated. “There’s no way they aren’t ready for us, and we already could have lost Hunk in the aftermath of a fight where the Galra didn’t know we were coming.”

“Thanks for the concern, Shiro.”

“Hunk!” Pidge grinned as the larger boy walked into the room, yellow light marking his path.

“Glad to see you on your feet, Hunk,” Shiro said warmly.

“Good to not hurt, I guess.” Hunk grinned awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

Coran came in behind him, twirling his mustache and saying, “Elven healing magic is very different from humans, or so Hunk tells me. More energy efficient, less painful, that sort of thing.”

“Lucky,” Keith muttered, giving his leg another experimental stretch..

“Now that Hunk’s better, we can start planning in earnest,” Shiro said. Hunk smiled, and went to stand beside Pidge and Keith. Coran positioned himself beside Allura.

* * *

 

_ He stared at the sky, blanketed by dark clouds, snow falling on his lashes and cheeks. He tried to stand, but he couldn’t. His legs would not move. Something warm spread underneath him, and at the same time, snow chilled his back. He was sure this was a vision, but he’d never experienced a vision quite like this- never had he felt so much sensation, so much cold, and pain, and… loss. _

_ He was sad. He felt abandoned, betrayed, left for dead- something he’d always felt had suddenly gone, something he’d always known had just now left him. Snow was filling his eyelashes, falling into his eyes. He was so cold. _

_ “-ake up! Don’t close your eyes!” Snow kissed skin, amber eyes. Brown hair falling like a curtain between them and the sky. So beautiful… he knew this person. He knew them, he just had to think- Green. That’s right, green. _

_ “Katie,” He tried to say. The word didn’t come, his throat constricting around it, something warm and slimy rising between his cold lips. _

_ “He’s not gonna make it!” Green -Katie- screamed, and another presence landed beside them, dark skin, round features, brown waves of hair framing a pudgy face. He knew them too, they were yellow. _

_ “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Yellow insisted. But suddenly there was just turquoise light. It filled all of his senses, no more pain, no more cold. _

Lance woke up gasping for breath. He scrambled for a pen before pausing in his actions, realizing just what the dream had been about. He’d foreseen his own death. His heart plummeted, and Lance threw his pen and his blankets across the room, falling to his knees in horror.

Lance had learned an awful lot in the past week since Lotor’s generals rescued him from Zarkon’s dungeons. He’d learned that he would never be able to explore the real world as he wished, he’d learned he was far too weak to handle himself, and he’d learned that his dreams of fighting alongside the paladins were foolish. Not once did he think he might die before his time- or, perhaps that his time was sooner than he had thought.

Lance collapsed against his mattress, sobbing into the old fabric. He didn’t want to die, but he’d never known enough about his visions to know if the Galra were ever successful in preventing them, so he had no idea how he was supposed to prevent a death he didn’t even see take place. Lance allowed himself some time to grieve his own life as tears slipped down his face.

“Lance?” A gentle touch pried Lance away from the mattress, and soft fingers began to dry away his tears. “What’s wrong?”

Lance looked into the crimson tinted eyes of the most energetic of Lotor’s generals. Ezor was the picture of concern as she studied Lance’s features.

“I died,” Lance said simply, and Ezor’s face went blank with understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Ezor murmured. “Do you know how?”

“Not entirely. I was bleeding out in the snow,” Lance explained, taking a deep breath as he rubbed at his face.

Ezor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it help you feel better if I told you Lotor answered some of your requests? There’s a nicer room waiting for you upstairs.”

Lance smiled delicately at the dark elf woman, and nodded. “That would be nice, Ezor, thank you.”

On the way up, Ezor sent Lance concerned glances, but he kept his eyes forward and down, never meeting her gaze. He kept thinking of the sensation of the warmth as it left him, blood seeping from his body. He was only pulled out of this strange stupor when Ezor opened the new bedroom’s door. Lance couldn’t hold back his grateful gasp.

True to his word, Lotor had tried his best to grant Lance’s wishes. The walls were a creamy white, with silver trim, and though it still was a window, Lance could squeeze out and stand on a balcony whenever he wished. The window could be covered with cheerful yellow curtains- not the red or blue Lance had requested, but they reminded him of sunflowers and Hunk, and they reminded him of comfort.

There were two doors besides the entrance, one leading into a room with a comfortable looking tub. His private bath. The other had to be his wardrobe. Lance couldn’t help the bounce in his step as he went to check it.

The wardrobe was full of clothes in bright colors, sewn from different cloths with different textures. It was nearly a rainbow of textiles. Even so, Lance’s spirits fell a little. “What about the dresses?”

Ezor looked puzzledly at the clothes. “Um, I mean, Lotor probably has more answers for you about that than I do. You can borrow one of mine? They aren’t fancy or anything, just a little something something for when I want to go out and feel pretty.”

“You’re always pretty, Ezor,” Lance argued.

“Flatterer,” Ezor said, sticking out her tongue playfully. Then she waved her hands, ushering Lance to try some of the clothes. “Well, go on! Get out of Lotor’s grey old drab, and get ready to look fab!”

Lance couldn’t help but grin at the prospect of owning his own clothes. He skimmed the choices once again before plucking a colorful bundle off one of the low shelves, and pulling a matching coat off it’s hangar. Ezor watched with amusement as he hurried into his private bath to change.

The fabric was soft on his skin, the deep blue hue contrasting against the burgundy shirt he’d picked. The coat had silver fastenings, and the slacks settled into his brand new black boots easily. When Lance stepped out of the bathroom, he struck a little pose, and Ezor laughed as she applauded. “Work it, Vision Boy.”

“Oh my gods, don’t call me that,” Lance groaned, hiding his face in his hands. He was grinning widely, though, and Ezor laughed. Lance joined her, and for a few minutes, it was just the two of them, posing ridiculously in Lance’s brand new bedroom.

When Lance eventually settled, it was with a sad little sigh, and a wistful look out the window at the forest around their little sunflower patch. Ezor felt the somber mood and sat at the foot of his new bed, studying him quietly.

“I wish I could go out there by myself,” Lance confessed. “I wish I wasn’t such a burden on you guys.”

“You’re not a burden, Lance. It’s pretty boring around here, to be honest,” Ezor commented, tilting her head.

“Well, you’re welcome I guess. I still  _ feel _ like a burden. If I could… do  _ something _ , I’d feel better about the strain my presence puts you all in,” Lance argued.

“You don’t put any strain on us, Lance. I mean, you and Lotor are like… close. Aren’t you? He cares about you, I think. That makes you immediately Not A Burden,” Ezor debated.

“I still feel useless, though. Just being cared for doesn’t make for healthy connections,” Lance insisted.

“Well,” Ezor hesitated. “Maybe I could help with that.”

Lance looked at her with raised brows, curious as to what her solution could possibly be. Ezor grinned, and the look in her eyes turned dangerously mischievous. Lance had a feeling this idea might involve sneaking behind Lotor’s back. For some reason, that terrified him.

* * *

 

“Krolia,” Kolivan greeted stiffly. “I didn’t expect to be seeing you so soon.”

“Thace has sent me important news,” Krolia announced, rather than engage in pleasantries. “The Paladins are expected to attack the Capital any day now. The letter was already a day old.”

Kolivan’s eyes narrowed, and Krolia’s nerves rankled. If he was going to deliberate, he had to do it quick. Krolia would not be standing by while the paladins -rumored to be merely calves- risked their lives in a foolish endeavor. Not yet allied with anyone, and they would run into the Capital without all five lions? They were not ready.

“We’ll send aide. Inform Thace to prepare a signal for when their attack begins. We’ll plant a few Blades in the innermost rings of the Capital, surrounding the castle grounds,” Kolivan instructed. “We cannot let Zarkon gain control of the Black Lion once again.”

“Makes sense. Is that all?” Krolia asked. The man ignored her, much to her annoyance, returning his gaze to the map of the Capital spread out on the table before him.

“Ulaz,” Kolivan called, and the named dark elf looked up from the ground he had been studying intently in the corner. The soft violet glow of the magical lanterns illuminated the familiar face of Krolia’s brother’s mate. “Take Krolia to the Forge. She’ll need a new blade if she is to join us on the battlefront.”

“Why me?” Krolia asked. “I told you field work wasn’t in the cards for me anymore.”

“You’re here. We will need many helping hands,” Kolivan said simply. He was almost daring her to speak against him, almost daring her to step away from a fight he knew she could not resist.

Krolia frowned, but she followed Ulaz without a word. The man was silent as they walked down the cavern’s halls, the magical lights guiding their path.

The heat of the Forge was the first thing to be noticed when one turned into the hall it led through. It was a wave, strong and stifling, quickly making the breath one took heavy. Waves of heat could be seen, as the air quivered and distorted whatever stood beyond it. Then, there was the enormous cavern entrance that led to a lake of magma, thirty feet away from the gaping arch of stone, marked off by a flimsy metal fence.

Another Blade stood to one side, eyeing three freshly mended blades, retrieved from fallen members and reconstructed within the forge’s pit. The pit lay just at the edge of the stone fence, a pillar of magma pouring gently into it from above, then slowly out, to the large lake, from a small hole in the bottom. The returned swords were dipped inside, pulled out, then shaped by a blacksmith.

“Ulaz,” The young Blade greeted with a nod.

“Regris,” Ulaz responded in kind. He gestured to Krolia. “This is Krolia. She needs a blade.”

Regris looked at Krolia, then at Ulaz, and nodded. “There are three. Take your pick.”

Krolia hummed as she selected the weapon in the center. “I didn’t think there were attendants in the Forge.”

“Regris is a field worker. He was injured, however, and is confined to the base until he mends,” Ulaz explained. “He’s taken to assisting the blacksmith.”

“I see,” Krolia muttered under her breath. “So, will you be joining the mission to aide the paladins?”

“Yes,” Regris nodded. “I am discharged tonight.”

“Though I’d rather he rest longer. He nearly died the last time,” Ulaz snorted disapprovingly.

“I’m not a calf, Ulaz. I know what I am doing, and I would gladly lay down my life for the Blade,” Regris announced. Krolia winced. She’d left the Blade so that perhaps, one day, she’d love to see her son again. With the Blade, there was no guarantee she would live to even see the next sunrise.

“Not in such a vain attempt, however. You’re death would have cost us more than what saving you had,” Ulaz argued. “This is not up for discussion at this time. Krolia, I believe you have a message to send?”

Krolia nodded. “I have to begin drafting it now, to hide the information without using an obvious code.”

“Let me assist you,” Ulaz offered. Krolia raised an eyebrow. She didn’t need assistance, and Ulaz damn well knew it. “Please.”

“Alright,” she allowed. She and Ulaz once again exited in silence, leaving Krolia’s thoughts free to roam. The weapon now at her belt was a weight against her hip that made her feel lost. Somewhere, somehow, she was sure her son was on his way.

Perhaps she would not be so distant soon.

* * *

 

“Bow, check! Quiver of arrows, check! Arm bracer… where’d the arm bracer go?” Ezor shuffled through the items she’d nicked for a minute, confused.

“Is it this?” Lance’s brown hand held a leather cuff into her line of sight, and Ezor lit up.

“Yes, that’s exactly it! Okay, great, now put that on your left hand,” Ezor ordered.

“My left?” Lance asked.

“That’s your non-dominant hand, right?” Ezor asked.

“Right, um. Yeah,” Lance nodded hastily as he began to fasten the cuff around his wrist with immense difficulty.

“You’re really nervous about this, aren’t you?” Ezor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, last time I held a bow, Lotor freaked out!” Lance protested.

Ezor raised one eyebrow, very much unimpressed. “Well, does Lotor control every single one of your actions? Because if so, I need to have a serious conversation with him about what freedom is.”

“Don’t do that,” Lance insisted. “He’s really nice to me. I swear.”

Ezor felt severely uncomfortable thinking about how she’d seen the prince treating Lance the past several days.

“He might be nice, but that doesn’t mean you’re free. You’re free if you feel free, Lance. Do you feel free?” Ezor asked.

“I… I don’t know. How does that feel?” Lance asked, and his pained expression of longing made Ezor’s heart break in two.

“Then you aren’t free, Lance. I can’t describe freedom to you. But you’ll know when you feel it,” Ezor explained.

There was silence for a while, as Ezor finally decided to help Lance tie up the laces on his bracer. Finally, as Ezor bent to pick up the bow and quiver, Lance asked, “Ezor, do you feel free?”

Ezor thought about it. Did she feel free? She was always following Lotor’s orders, always staying under the radar, always keeping her head down. No, she didn’t feel free. Maybe it wasn’t possible to feel free under Galra rule. “No, I don’t.”

“Have you ever felt free? Is it even possible?” Lance asked.

Ezor shrugged. “Maybe someday. Wanna try your hand at some archery now?”

“Where will we practice? Axca’s in the training room, you said so yourself,” Lance pointed out. “She’ll tell Lotor without hesitation.”

“We’re going outside,” Ezor shrugged.

“Outside?” Lance looked positively terrified.

“Yeah! Let’s feel a little  _ free _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Season five did not change my mind about Lotor. And that opinion is that he's confusing as all hell, and I don't know what to make of him.


	21. Family and Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is visited by a spirit he didn't know he missed. Then he and Pidge are attacked by Sendak himself. Then we receive a blast from the past! Meanwhile, Lance is getting better at archery under the kind tutelage of Ezor. Narti brings up the dilemma of loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no, I'm utter crap at writing calm before the storm, or like, full out battle scenes, lol. I tried, I just could not get it to happen. So have another "recap of what happened to start the battle, and how we got here" right at the start of this chapter.

The plan was to get in through the sewers, attack the guards, and get Shiro, Keith, and Pidge into the palace. Hunk and Allura would keep the Imperials out while the three of them went looking for the Red Lion. Green and Black would be housecat sized, ready for either battle or flight. Pidge would cast a silencing spell, though seeing as it wasn’t an invisibility spell, and their movements could still be seen, they still had to run quickly. Then they’d search the castle until they found the Red Lion.

That was the plan. It… didn’t go  _ wrong _ , exactly.

When they started their attack against the guards on the wall, though, groups of rebels suddenly emerged throughout the Capital, keeping patrolmen busy in the different rings. During the battle, someone lit a flare, and several dark elves in near-black clothing also arrived to the fight. Shiro recognizes them as members of the Blade of Marmora, and informed the paladins that they were allies.

Shiro, who had planned to give Keith and Pidge a little extra muscle, got caught in the fray. Hunk and Allura kept as planned and fought fiercely to keep Galra out of the castle.

Keith, though, was alone with Pidge and Green inside the palace.

“How am I supposed to find a magic spirit lion inside a castle?” Keith scowled, nearly under his breath.

“You are the worst sneak,” Pidge muttered.

“I’m sorry for asking about pretty vital information,” Keith uttered.

“Look, I don’t know. Green spoke to me before she woke up, but Hunk just  _ felt _ Yellow, and I’m not even sure about Shiro and Black,” Pidge muttered. “It’s… it’s a unique experience, I guess.”

“Unique experience,” Keith snorted. “Thanks.”

_ You’re so close. _ Keith blinked. He hadn’t heard the voice in months, not since he first started setting up camp in No Man’s Land. This same warm presence always accompanied it. But usually it was gone in an instant, leaving Keith feeling emptier than before. Now, it stayed, urging him in a certain direction.

“I’m close,” Keith said.

“How do you know?” Pidge asked curiously.

“Can’t describe it,” Keith smirked. Then he threw her words right back at her. “It’s a unique experience, I guess.”

“Oh, screw you,” Pidge retorted, sticking out her tongue.

Keith followed the warm prodding, Pidge close on his heels, Green slinking not far behind and slowly dissolving into the unseen. The halls were surprisingly empty, for being the palace in which Emperor Zarkon resided. The warm feeling vanished, and Keith froze.

“Something’s wrong,” Keith muttered.

“Yes, I should certainly think so,” a voice interrupted. “We have two intruders running about in the castle halls.”

Keith whirled around and pulled Pidge behind him. Green shimmered as she appeared, no longer invisible and suddenly a full sized lioness. Before them stood a large, muscular dark elf, his left eye a piercing crimson, the other replaced by an ominous silver orb. His right arm was replaced by a twisted hook, and on his face sat a smug, sick smile.

“Sendak,” Keith scowled. “I see you aren’t captain of the guard in Silver Peak anymore.”

“I see the thieving street rat has attempted to legitimize his craft,” Sendak chuckled, drawing a sword with his remaining hand. “The Red Lion is the Emperor’s property,  _ brats _ .”

“That he  _ stole _ from the high elf king of old!” Pidge shouted. “This is just reclaiming what was his.”

“Enough talk! You will not lay hands on the Red Lion,” Sendak snarled, charging forward with his sword and hook aimed to maim.

Pidge acted first, her body exploding into multiples, each of them scattering in a different direction. Then Green leapt over Keith and landed hard on the dark elf. Sendak growled and shoved her off of him, barely climbing back to his feet before Keith engaged him in battle yet again.

As Keith’s sword met with Sendak’s over and over, the large dark elf managing to block every stroke, Pidge’s copies began a barrage of their own, all of them wielding electrified daggers. Sendak swung his hook, several of the illusions breaking apart like smoke as he did, and threw Keith against the wall.

“Keith!” Pidge exclaimed, panicked. Her illusions flickered into nothing, leaving her open and vulnerable. Sendak lunged to attack, but Green pounced on him, clutching his hook between her fierce teeth.

“Commander Sendak!” Several soldiers turned the corner, one of them leading the charge without even a helmet on.

“Haxus! Attack the Green Paladin,” Sendak ordered. Haxus and his men immediately rushed to defend their commander. Keith cursed under his breath as he got back to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The illusory Pidges vanished with every blow, and Green immediately turned on the soldiers to protect her paladin from harm. Sendak turned tail and ran down the halls, and Keith saw red. No way was he escaping this battle. Keith charged after him.

“Keith, where are you going!?” Pidge exclaimed.

“Keep them busy!” Keith shouted over his shoulder. He ran through a door, following Sendak. Green blocked the other Galra from the entrance, roaring viciously at them.

Now Keith just had to deal with the commander.

* * *

 

Years ago, in a little valley with a river running right through it, three children were gathered. Marco was spearfishing, the shortened spear ready in one hand, and his eyes tracking the fish through the water. Luis was counting the ants, trailing them along the muddy bank. Veo, though, she was picking brightly colored flowers to show off to her sickly brother laying inside the hastily assembled tent a little ways away.

Satisfied with her collection of bright little blooms, Veo scurried towards the tent and slid through the red flap that marked the entrance.

“Lance! There are flowers by the river!” Veo grinned, holding her hands behind her back. Mamá rolled her eyes as she dipped a washcloth back into the bucket of fresh river water. Lance’s eyes sparkled with excitement, his tiny sun kissed fingers clutching the vibrantly colored blankets tighter.

“Can I see some, Mamá, please?” Lance asked.

“If you can’t even stand, mijo, what makes you think you can play in the flowers?” Mamá asked, smiling and teasing, but her eyes looked sad.

Veo grinned, coming over to the side of the cot. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought some!”

“Veronica!” Mamá exclaimed as Veo dumped her fistfuls of flowers over her brother, who giggled and squealed in delight.

“They’re so colorful!” Lance grinned, and he lifted a yellow daisy to look at it better. He sniffed, taking in the scent. Then suddenly his eyes were glowing a soft turquoise, and Lance cried out a bit. His veins lit up through the skin, glowing brilliantly. Mamá frantically pushed Veo away from the sight, fretting over her youngest and pressing the wet washcloth against his skin.

“Yellow, yellow, yellow,” Lance babbled unconsciously. “Yellow, blue, green, red, black, white, Voltron.”

“Mamá, why is he doing that again?” Veo asked, staring at the pulsing glow of his veins, making him look so small, so fractured. She was petrified, watching the light grow bright, then dim, over and over and over.

“Veronica, go play with your siblings!” Mamá ordered. “Your brother is very sick!”

“Voltron, Voltron,” Lance’s feverish mumbling echoed in Veo’s head as she exited the tent. Veo didn’t know what Voltron was, but she had to figure it out. Anything to ease her brother’s pain. Anything.

She never did figure it out, not really. But Veo- Veronica, Veo was the nickname of a child, and she was no longer a child- was nothing if not determined. Even if now her determination was set more on finding her little brother, than finding out what Voltron was.

* * *

 

The arrow slammed into the tree. Ezor clapped, cheering. “Hey, you hit it! That’s some distance. You sure you’re as weak as you say? Takes strength to launch an arrow that far.”

“It’s the practice,” Lance said, giving her an itty bitty smile. Ezor returned the smile and clapped her hand on his shoulder.

“Well, Kid Oracle, you did a good job today. Let’s put away the arrows before Axca comes outside and lectures us.” Ezor began the walk towards the targets to collect the arrows, but Lance grabbed her arm.

“What about…” Lance gestured at their new companion, perched on the window sill of an empty bedroom, staring at them with her unseeing eyes.

“Narti didn’t see anything. Isn’t that right?” Ezor grinned, looking at her friend. Narti nodded with a sage little smile. “So that means, Narti can’t  _ say _ she saw anything.”

“Okay,” Lance shrugged. “I guess that’s okay, then.”

“So, let’s pack up, okay?” Ezor suggested. “Zethrid and Lotor are supposed to come back from the markets later today.”

“Right,” Lance nodded, hurrying to go fetch the arrows from the targets. When he was out of earshot, Ezor went to talk to Narti.

“His aim’s not bad. He nearly got bullseyes on every target,” Ezor said, narrowing her eyes at the arrows that nearly struck the blue centers of the targets. Only one was perfectly centered, but all the others weren’t too far off.

“Good,” Narti said simply, her voice rough from disuse. She didn’t speak often, and when she did, it wasn’t much.

“Exactly, he’s talented. It puts me at ease knowing he’ll be able to defend himself, at least a little, if something happened. I don’t know why, but… I just feel like something is wrong here,” Ezor sighed, running a hand through her loose locks. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy when she thought too long about Lance’s situation. Something was fishy here, and she didn’t like it.

“Lotor,” Narti explained. Ezor nodded. Lotor was acting strange. He was keeping secrets, he was purposefully trying to keep Lance dependent, and he wasn’t telling them how he planned to find Voltron.

“Lotor,” Ezor agreed. She turned her gaze back towards the boy, who was bending down to slide the arrows back into the quiver. The bow was slung across his back, and he looked like a real archer. Ezor smiled, pride welling up in her chest and making a home in her heart.

“He’s a good guy,” Ezor commented.

“Too trusting,” Narti warned. “Naive.”

Ezor blinked and looked at her companion. Narti shook her head, her lips pressed together in trepidation. Confused, Ezor pushed on, “What do you mean?”

“Naive. Lotor’s not to be trusted,” Narti said gravely. She slipped down from her perch and landed lightly on her feet. “We are not to be trusted.”

“I will protect this kid whatever it takes,” Ezor argued, glaring at Narti. “You think I won’t?”

“Loyalties lie with Lotor-” Narti shrugged- “we will all need to choose.”

Ezor blinked. Choose? Choose  _ what _ ? Narti was always so cryptic about these kinds of things. Before Ezor could ask, Lance reappeared at their side.

“I collected the arrows,” Lance announced, holding out the quiver and bow for Ezor to take. Lance was smiling brightly. Ezor smiled right back.

“How about we get something to chow down on?” Ezor suggested. Lance’s smile turned into a grin.

“Do we have steak?” Lance requested.

“That takes forever to cook, you dork! Narti, do we have anything fast?” Ezor looked curiously at her companion.

“Yes.”

“Really? What is it?” Ezor pushed. Narti shrugged, and Lance chuckled. It wasn’t a laugh, really, but even so it brightened up Ezor’s mood. Their good spirits lasted until they reached the front door of the fortress.

“So you’ve been teaching him archery,” Axca stated, her arms folded, and her gaze stony. Lance shrank into himself and stepped behind Ezor.

“And what if I have?” Ezor challenged.

Axca glanced at Lance, then at Narti, then the ground. She sighed. “I’d hope you’re teaching him properly. I won’t let you disgrace the art of archery with poor mentorship.”

“Wait, seriously? You aren’t going to tattle?” Ezor asked, surprised.

Axca shook her head. “I don’t trust Lotor’s motives for keeping him untrained. In these times, you either learn to fight, or you die.”

“Lotor _cares_ ,” Lance protested. Axca narrowed her eyes and studied Lance’s face.  
“I’m sure,” She said drily. “The point is, I’m not going to tell him if none of you are.”

“Then it’s settled,” Ezor grinned. “Lance, you’re going to be an archer!”

Lance looked doubtful and uncertain after Axca’s response, but as soon as Ezor threw her arm over his shoulders, he looked less troubled. “I guess that’ll be exciting.”

Axca rolled her eyes. “I made food. And tomorrow, while Lotor is in his study, I’ll be checking how well Ezor’s done teaching you my skill set.”

“Hey, I think after so long watching you train, I know how to do it,” Ezor griped.

“Watching and doing are different things,” Axca quipped.

“True,” Narti commented. Lance laughed.

Ezor was glad that she’d decided to teach him archery. She was glad Narti hadn’t ratted them out. She was glad Axca wasn’t going to be ratting them out. Ezor couldn’t wait to get Zethrid in on this- soon their delicate little flower might actually become a fighter himself. Yeah, Lotor’s insistence that he be kept so incredibly sheltered was weird, but it didn’t matter. The lot of them were exercising the freedom they were supposed to have gained when they acted against the Empire.

As they put away the bow and arrows, Ezor remembered what Narti had told her outside.  _ We will all need to choose _ . What did that mean? When would they need to choose? Who would they choose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about Lance's family because Veronica and Luis are the names of two of my own siblings. Veo is actually a nickname of my sister's. Anyway! I hope you liked this chapter, because I wrote it yesterday, and couldn't post it, so it's been fueling my insecurity for about twenty four hours now, ahaha.


	22. Bittersweet, Sweet, Bitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is sad but also happy? Who even knows anymore. Lotor is... sweet? Pidge reunites with her brother when he goes looking for a friend in the castle. Keith sees a familiar face, feels a familiar presence, and learns some important things about the Harbinger. Also Rose is not so much of a mystery anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I was just way too impatient with the Rose reveal. And the other reveal. It's the BOOK. Also, have some terribly written everything.

Lance was not an idiot. He’d seen plenty of visions of how the future might go, but none of them told him what might happen to him. Not since he’d seen, or felt, his own death. He wasn’t supposed to know his own future. He was supposed to see Voltron’s future. He’d seen them doing much to inspire the people of Altea, he’d seen them fighting alongside the Blade and the Freedom Fighters, he’d seen flashes of Zarkon and the final battle.

Lance knew his story ended somewhere in the middle of the story he was forced to watch unfold in his dreams. After so many years of visions, he could piece things together, if he tried hard enough. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t care when things happened, he just wanted to be as happy as he could be right now.

That had always been Lance’s wish, to simply be happy. And things were getting better. Ezor, Narti, and Axca were all willing to train him, strengthen him. Lance had a fleeting thought that perhaps he could avoid his future if he was strong enough. After all, he’d seen many outcomes, many different probably futures. He’d seen futures where the Paladins fail, where Zarkon is triumphant. His death was one outcome of many. But the vision had been so solid, so concrete. Lance was sure that that was indeed how he was meant to go if the paladins were to succeed.

No, he’d never know Hunk’s warm embrace. No, he’d never make Keith smile and laugh. No, he’d never swap teases with Pidge. He’d never bask in Shiro’s air of confident reassurance, or Allura’s graceful strength, inside and out. He’d never witness these things in person, but Lance would always,  _ always _ , have the visions of them. He’d seen the way Hunk hugged those close to him, heard Keith laugh, watched Pidge tease. He’d seen Shiro inspire armies, seen Allura lead them with her strong will.

Besides, Lance had Ezor’s grins and play. He had Narti’s calming presence, had Axca’s sarcastic quips, and even Zethrid’s loud thundering laughter. What mattered to Lance was that he was alive, here and now, and he wanted to live his life to the fullest he could.

So Lance wandered the fortress in the next hours before Lotor arrived. And eventually, he found himself back in the library. Lance hummed as he skimmed the books, glancing at each leather bound tome with little more than a passing curiosity. He reached Lotor’s desk again quickly enough, the map behind it displaying all of Altea, and the country to the north.

On Lotor’s desk sat that same thick volume as before. The one Lance found out about Voltron from. Curiously he studied the cover. Stylish golden engravings, a pretty border along the edges of the cover, and an embossed Voltron “V” in the center. Lance’s fingers brushed the gold. It was cool to the touch. His fingers reached the edge of the cover, and he contemplated opening it again.

Lotor hasn’t been upset the last time he was reading it. Besides, Lance deserved to know more about the lions, more about this dragon amulet. He had to know, it was his right. If he was forced to see these visions, then why not let him know what the significance behind them was?

“Lance? Axca informed me you might be up here,” Lotor’s voice rang through the library, startling Lance. He bumped into the wall and slipped to the ground after tripping over his own feet. Lotor was standing in front of him the next moment, a concerned smile on his face.

“Are you quite alright?” Lotor asked.

“Um, I’m fine,” Lance murmured self consciously as Lotor pulled him to his feet. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back,” Lotor said warmly. “Nothing like seeing a loved one when you return home from a harrowing mission.”

“What did you do this time?” Lance asked.

“Well, you were right, my darling Lance. The Imperials were rushing to the Capital to protect the last lion and apprehend the paladins. That left their western bases sorely under protected. I even brought you a gift, from our spoils,” Lotor informed.

“A gift? You didn’t have too,” Lance blushed.

“Nonsense. If you can’t travel to find your family, the least I can do for you is to bring you souvenirs,” Lotor insisted.

_ Or he could actually do something to help you, like his agents are doing, _ Blue argued hotly. Lance smiled a little uncomfortably. It was true. Lotor was handling Lance like a glass flower, however, and he enjoyed being treated like something to be treasured.

Lotor offered Lance a small silk pouch. “Here you are.”

Lance accepted the pouch, pulling it open and sliding a small, smooth item out from inside. It was cool to the touch, and shimmering with colors like green, violet, orange, and yellow. He turned it over in his hands, watching as the colors warped and twisted across the surface of the object. “What is it?”

“Mother of pearl,” Lotor said. “From the beaches of Rygnirath.”

“I don’t know where that is,” Lance said, his brow furrowing.

“Well, you said your earliest years were spent at the beach. Many humans come from one of three tribes of Rygnirath. It’s been a few hundred years since they were tribes, however,” Lotor explained kindly.

“So, I might come from there?” Lance asked.

“Perhaps,” Lotor hummed.

“I hope so,” Lance decided. “It’ll make it easier to imagine where I’d be if I wasn’t some future seeing magical entity.”

Lance paid no mind to the hard look in Lotor’s eyes, his own attention preoccupied with the shimmering object he was twisting in his fingers. He didn’t see Lotor’s jaw clench, or his eyes fall upon the book on his desk. He didn’t notice when Lotor let out a stiff breath, and led Lance out of the room.

“Let’s go to dinner, shall we?”

* * *

 

“Keep them busy!”

_ Green, pen them in! _

Pidge felt a strike catch her in her side as Green roared. She tumbled to the floor, a harsh step pressing down on her brand new wound. Pidge looked up to see a sword swinging down to meet her chest.

Suddenly, there was nothing standing over Pidge, and she jolted up to see a sight she thought she’d never see in her lifetime.

Matthew Descartes Holt tilted his spear so that the body slipped right off, only leaving in its wake smears of crimson. He was no taller than last she’d seen him, but he was certainly more grown up, with his hair grown past his jaw and to his shoulders, and a scar cutting through what was once a baby fat covered cheek.

“Matt!” Pidge exclaimed. She had seen the Freedom Fighters attacking, but she didn’t dare to hope Matt would be among them.

“We are  _ talking _ about this later, Katie,” Matt grinned. Pidge nodded, smiling right back.

Matt spun his spear in a little circle before crouching into a fighting stance. “Let’s say we show these guys what Holts are made of?”

“Gladly,” Pidge smirked, matching his stance with her daggers. The other Imperials were busy with Green, who was gnashing her teeth at each and every one of them, but Pidge and Matt quickly became a problem for them.

Neither Pidge nor Matt was very well versed in combat magic, but somehow in the past year that they were separated, they’d both become deadly magicians. Matt’s spear crackled with lightning in a similar manner to Pidge’s daggers, and while Pidge used duplicates to confuse her enemies, Matt used some sort of stunning spells to stop them in their tracks. It really was a fierce barrage of attacks, and when all the Imperials had fallen, the two of them were left panting and staring at each other in awe.

“You’re a paladin?” Matt asked, looking at Green as she shrank and leapt onto Pidge’s shoulders.

“Well, you’re a rebel!” Pidge responded. “I think we’ve both grown a lot.”

“You’re telling me, Pidge! Uh, sorry, Katie,” Matt amended.

“No. Pidge is fine,” Pidge smiled warmly at her brother. Matt smiled back. Pidge noticed his lack of allies. “Why are you here? You don’t have any backup with you.”

“I was following a friend, hoping to give  _ her _ some backup,” Matt sighed. “I lost her somewhere in this maze of a castle.”

“Well, we could hunt down my friend together,” Pidge offered. “Safety in numbers.”

“You think I’d leave you after unexpectedly finding you this way? Not in the Nine Hells!” Matt laughed incredulously. “Here, let me take a look at your wounds.”

“We both know you’re not a healer, Matt,” Pidge snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Cerulean willow,” Matt simply responded. “Depending on the severity, applying some CW paste might help.”

“Don’t ever day see-dubs again,” Pidge commanded, lifting her arm so that Matt could examine the slice along her side.

“It’s faster-“

“It’s horrendous, is what it is.”

“Whatever.”

“Ow, that stings!”

“It’s a healing paste, of course it stings!”

* * *

 

When Keith finally reached the room, someone else entered from the opposite side at the exact same time. Someone with a familiar sun kissed face, angry brown eyes set under furrowed dark eyebrows, and long curly dark hair.

“It seems as if I’ve been cornered,” Sendak drawled, tossing a scarlet statuette into the air before catching it again.

“Sendak,” the familiar woman sneered with all the hatred of a woman looking upon the murderer of someone close to her. Keith wouldn’t be surprised if that was accurate.

“I’m not sure I remember you, madame, though I’m not sure it matters,” Sendak hummed. The woman scowled, and suddenly memories flooded into Keith’s mind, of a caravan with an impossibly large family, of a woman determined to find someone, of a sad set of parents. This woman was the very same Rose he’d met when he was lost and unsure.

“Where is he!?” Rose demanded angrily. “Where is the Harbinger!?”

“The Harbinger? It might as well be dead,” Sendak announces dismissively. “Lord Zarkon’s traitor son took him to spite his father.”

Keith watched as Rose shrieked in rage, drawing a blade he  _ knew _ she was an expert with, then charged at Sendak. Sendak responded with a swipe of his hook, which threw off her blade, but she simply returned with another blow.

Keith ran into the fray, noticing how Sendak protected the red object in his hand. Keith wasn’t too sure how it fit into the equation, but he wasn’t about to make anything easy for Sendak.

Keith didn’t get close. No sooner had he decided to make Sendak’s battle as difficult as possible than had the object in Sendak’s flesh hand exploded in cherry light. All three of the room’s occupants were thrown back as the object slowly morphed and transformed, flames exploding all over its surface.

The warm presence Keith had always felt in his childhood cane back, this time hot and burning and fierce.  _ I am here, I have always been here, I was waiting. _

The Red Lion roared loudly for all to hear. Keith was the first to react, immediately stepping forward to greet his lion. Red huffed and turned away from him, instead glaring at Sendak and growling.  _ He will touch no cub of mine. _

“Kuro?” Rose muttered. She hadn’t seen Keith before, so distracted with Sendak’s presence.

“Sick ‘im, Red,” Keith smirked.

_ You do not tell me what to do, _ Red huffed, but even so she pounced towards the dark elf as he scrambled to escape. Keith turned his focus to Rose, who was looking at him in surprise.

“Hello, Rose,” Keith said awkwardly as Red tore into the dark elf with a ferocity Keith often found in himself.

“You’re a paladin,” Rose stated, easily ignoring the now feasting lion. For a fleeting moment, Keith thought it was quite a disappointing, dishonorable death for the sadistic commander. He didn’t deserve anything heroic, anyway.

“Keith Kogane, Red Paladin,” Keith said. The words were still foreign in his mouth, like he was trying to make his mouth form shapes it wasn’t supposed to. But he knew better, he and Red had always been connected. Red had always been at his side. Red was there like no one else had ever been, not even Shiro.

“A paladin of  _ Voltron _ , the very thing that just might destroy Altea and the world around it,” Rose scowled.

“We wouldn’t hurt-“

“No, Keith, you wouldn’t. I know you. But Voltron can be controlled by forces other than the paladins who ride its lions. Voltron is a danger to Altea, and Alterna, and every other country around them. That’s why I need to find the Harbinger and make sure no harm comes to him. If his blood is spilt on the Altar of Oriande… we may have already lost,” Rose explained. She frowned. “That, and a few other, more private reasons.”

“I don’t understand, what do you mean?” Keith asked.

“The Harbinger sees visions because he is goddess blessed. The Lion Goddess herself gave him her blessing- it’s more like a curse,” Rose spat. “It weakens the body, destroys it from the inside out. The bearer of the blessing has uncontrollable fits and seizures, as the prophecies have no way to release themselves. High elves, they could survive such a blessing no problem. The current Harbinger was ripped from his home, from his loving family, by the Galra. They were told that he would die if they did not take him and treat him, and they were told that they would never see him again. His mother was an idiot. Instead of enjoying what little time she had with him, she sold him away, thinking that he’d be better off a slave to the Empire, than loved up to the very  _ minute _ he died. Beyond that, even. The only reason The Harbinger has lived so long is because that  _ fowl witch _ has kept Voltron dormant within him. If he still saw prophecies while he was awake, he’d be in great pain.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Keith demanded. “Voltron’s inside him!?”

“In his blood,” Rose explained. “And people want to claim Voltron for themselves.”

“We can’t let them, that’d  _ kill _ him!” Keith protested.

“You think I don’t know that!? Why do you think I spent over the last decade of my life trying to right the wrong my mother did!?” Rose shouted. Keith flinched back.

“What?”

“My true name is Veronica McClain,” Rose announced. “My baby brother’s name is Lance McClain, and I had to watch him be taken away from me by Zarkon’s pet  _ witch _ . I’ve spent eleven years hunting him down, breaking into fortress after fortress, searching prison after prison, and I  _ haven’t found him _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably my worst chapter. Blegh.


	23. Loyalty Questioned and Tested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets all sad about the paladins again, because that hasn't gotten old yet. Black tells Shiro to relax, but no one else will let that happen, especially not me! Pidge watches Veronica and Allura butt heads- they're actually very similar. Krolia angsts. Kroliangst?  
> Narti wakes Lance up in the middle of the night and Lotor isn't too happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying really hard to make Veronica and Allura similar in such ways that they just can't seem to get along? I really hope that's coming across well. This chapter's the longest one yet, because I had so much I wanted to put in, so there's that. I hope you guys enjoy it!

It was as Lotor and the girls went to the library to convene and talk strategy that Lance’s right arm flared in pain, the agony shooting like lightning from his wrist to his shoulder. Lance barely had time to wince before the world was engulfed in flames, everything vanishing from sight. Smoke filled Lance’s lungs and he couldn’t breathe. The sky was hidden behind thick black clouds flecked it’s flickering embers. White ash drifted down and landed on Lance’s skin, and the orange light made him look so much darker than he was.

The heat was unbearable. Lance was sure that it would kill him, it was so incredibly hot. The air around him was liquid as it danced, rippling like a mirage everywhere he looked. Lance choked on the smoke, and that was when he heard the roar, a crimson lioness making her appearance just beyond the flames.

_ Red. _ They were all found. They’d all be together. The lions were reunited. When Lance blinked, the fires were gone, and he gasped a breath. The stone floor was cool against his skin as he dropped to his hands and knees, and he could hear the lions celebrating in his mind. He could hear the lions calling for a retreat, could hear them arguing. He could hear the paladins, as briefly as ever, small snippets of their thoughts. Then the paladins were out of his reach once more, only the lions lingering behind in his mind.

His good cheer from reuniting with Lotor faded, as did the excitement from learning archery, and Lance stared blankly at the stones beneath his fingers. His insides swirled in horror.

Lance couldn’t help but feel that the more the paladins succeeded, the closer he got to his death. He wondered how it would happen. He knew where, he knew he’d lose too much blood to be saved, and he knew two of the paladins at least would witness his end. But he didn’t know why or how he wound up bleeding to death in the snow. Could it be that he disobeyed Lotor and went unprotected into the wilderness? Did Haggar find him and punish him for being taken away from her? Did Lance get to live his dream of proving useful to the paladins, even just long enough to sacrifice his life for them?

Unfortunately, the most appealing option was the least likely. He was too weak to do anything to save the paladins.

_ That’s ridiculous! Have you not lived this long? Have you not survived torture at the hand of Zarkon’s prized witch? _ Red demanded, fierce in tongue just as in presence, as her flames lit suddenly in his mind.

_ All to protect our paladins, _ Blue added, a trickling river extinguishing Red’s flames.  _ You have greater strength than you know, my cub. _

Lance smiled wryly as he got back to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. His legs wobbled as he walked, forcing him to keep himself close to the wall. “You say that, and then I can’t even stand properly.”

The lions didn’t respond. That was fine. Lance preferred the silence to lies anyway.

* * *

 

The retreat had been quick and messy. People were left behind, people died, but most of them got out. Most of them were safe. Shiro shouldn’t blame himself for the deaths of rebels who knew the dangers of aiding them.

_ I agree that it was not your fault _ , Black said, flexing her scorpion tail.

“How is it not my fault?” Shiro cracked desperately, clenching his magic arm. “I’m the whole reason all of this is happening! Had I never been stupid enough to take Matt out into the wilderness by myself, maybe this would never have happened!”

_ What do you think would happen to Altea had you not disappeared that day? What do you think would happen to Keith, or Matt? _ Black demanded.

“They’d be safe! Matt would be on track to become on of the eight kings of Terra, Keith would be getting his education, studying the craft he wants to work in, Hells, even Hunk would be better off!” Shiro argued.

_ Matt would become the puppet king of a farce of a nation. It is only a matter of time before Terra is under the rule of Zarkon as well. Keith would have died doing something stupid for you, and Hunk would no longer have a choice in his magic. The Galra are not kind rulers, Takashi. _

Shiro’s eyes stung at the truth, and he looked away from Black to hide his shame. He heard Black let out a little sigh and lie down on the ground.  _ And what of the Harbinger, Shiro? You think he would not still hold his curse? You think that we would not simply just choose new riders? New masters? _

“I didn’t mean to imply that that particular day was the only catalyst for our fate,” Shiro muttered, sitting on the stones beside his lion.

_ But you did. No matter how large your role in your destiny, Shiro, you must remember yours is not the only one. Many things led you all to this point, and the Harbinger saw them all. _ Black rested her head on Shiro’s thigh, the warmth comforting him a bit.

“So it’s fixed, this is how it was always meant to happen,” Shiro said flatly.

_ Most certainly not. Just because you five are the major players, does not mean that there weren’t many ways your destiny could play out. The Harbinger sees every path, _ Black explained.

“So this Harbinger… he would know us really well, then. Better than we know ourselves,” Shiro murmured.

_ He knows the many ways you may handle situations, yes. And he loves you for all your strength and all your flaws, Shiro. He loves you because he sees, as I do, that you were meant to be here. That you are a good man, _ Black reassured.

Shiro’s gut twisted with guilt. “I don’t even know who he is. I didn’t even know he was a person until recently. These last couple of weeks… they’ve been crazy, Black. I don’t think I can handle being the leader like this.”

_ Allow yourself some moments of weakness, _ Black advised.  _ You have a team for a reason. _

The team. Right. With a sigh, Shiro ran his flesh hand, his mortal hand, through his hair. He looked at his magical hand and clenched the fingers. “Do you think Pidge has made any headway with her animating spells?”

_ We may go see, _ Black said with a hint of a smile in her tone.

Shiro exited his designated bedroom to find the hallway outside surprisingly crowded. As in, groups of people were scattered about chattering to one another. The Castle of Lions had become the new home base for both Freedom Fighters and Marmoran Blades, not to mention the rebel group from Alterna, led by a man Shiro had been shocked to meet named Sven. It was only earlier today that they’d escaped the battle, but somehow the rebels had all made themselves at home here.

“Shiro! There you are.” Shiro turned to see Keith and a woman with dark curls, her brown eyes piercing and angry.

“Keith! You all good?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but Shiro, I need to talk to you. It’s important,” Keith stated.

Shiro frowned. “What’s this about?”

“The Harbinger,” The rebel woman stated. “He’s in danger.”

At those words, Black was immediately uneasy, her throat emitting a low growl. Red, who was standing behind Keith, growled right back. They were both uneasy at this revelation.

So much for relaxing.

* * *

 

“This is the map room,” Pidge announced, as she led Matt inside. The ground glowed, turquoise flecks floating into the air and forming the map of Altea. Pidge’s path was marked by a green light under her feet, but Matt’s made no color cast, the ground remaining turquoise under his boots.

“Whoa,” Matt said, awed. He moved his hands through the orbs, watching them bounce against his skin before returning to their position. “This is incredible!”

“I know, right?” Pidge grinned. “Everything in this castle is magical in some sort of way. I plan on studying all of it, when we’ve got the time.”

“You’re so smart, Pidge, I’m sure you’ll figure it out quickly,” Matt decided. Pidge grinned even wider at her brother.

_ Pidge, the others will be entering soon. You will want to hear this, _ Green commented, pulling Pidge out of her distracted jubilance with the seriousness in her tone. Green looked very upset by whatever she was sensing.  _ I do not appreciate how the Princess is seeing this issue. _

Before Pidge could even begin to ask Green what she meant, the doors opened to Allura and the others as she said, “I just don’t see how one person measures up to all of Altea. Yes, he is in danger, but so is the entire kingdom!”

“Princess, with all due respect, this is my  _ brother _ .” The rebel woman whom Keith had ridden to the castle with had a particularly nasty bite to her words. “If it was your brother, wouldn’t you do anything to take him back from the people who took him from you?”

“I’m sure I would try,” Allura huffed, clearly looking shaken by the words. Pidge’s eyes ping ponged between the two women for a moment. “But I’m sure someone would remind me that my duty is to all of Altea, as its princess, and as a paladin! I’m sorry, Miss Veronica, but I simply cannot lend you my paladins.”

“Fine,” Keith spoke up. “I’ll go by myself.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Hunk cut in, holding his hands up.

Keith ignored him. “I’ve been of the opinion that we should rescue the Harbinger this whole time. You said it had to wait until after we had all the lions. Well, now we’ve got them. I’m going. With or without the team.”

“Hey now,” Hunk argued. “We’re all in this together. And I for one don’t think we should leave anyone in the hands of the Empire. Keith, if you’re going, I’m with you. A hundred percent. But we don’t have any clue where this guy is.”

“Easy,” The rebel woman, Veronica, spoke up. “We track down Prince Lotor, we find my brother.”

Allura, still baffled at the outright disobedience of the paladins, spluttered suddenly. “ _ Prince _ Lotor? Zarkon’s wife disappeared before they had any offspring.”

“Maybe he remarried while you were asleep,” Shiro suggested. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

“Many things have changed, Princess,” Veronica said acerbically. “For example, the loyalties of this kingdom.”

“Excuse me?” Allura demanded.

“Do not dare to assume my family will bend the knee to you simply because your father was the last king. In fact, I’d rather see your Black Paladin in power.” Veronica folded her arms.

Allura scowled. “I am still the true heir to Altea’s seat of power! To speak such words is an act of treason!”

“Against a throne you no longer own,” Veronica spat. “Stolen or no, the only people who serve you now are your advisor and the other paladins. Five people does not a kingdom make.”

“That’s a bit uncalled for,” Shiro stepped in.

“Would you like to settle this?” Allura demanded. “There’s a sparring arena downstairs if you’d really like to  _ have words _ .”

“Settle all your issues with violence, do you?” Veronica challenged.

“Only the particularly irritating ones,” Allura snarled. As the two women, so very much alike in all the most dangerous ways, walked out of the room at a brisk pace, Pidge let out a low whistle.

“So what’s all of this about?” She asked.

“The Harbinger is in grave danger. And if Allura let me explain why, she’d know that all of Altea is in danger if he is,” Keith scowled.

“Don’t worry, Keith, we’re behind you,” Shiro assured. “We’ll just have to convince Allura of it.”

The Blue Lion let out a quiet snort, and Black snorted in response. Shiro chuckled as his lion said something to him. “Black says Blue will either drag Allura along, or leave her in the dust.”

“Red doesn’t care who’s coming,” Keith said, his hand dragging through his lion’s fur almost subconsciously. “She and I are leaving at dawn, and not a moment later.”

_ Ever the firecracker, _ Green chuckled. Red looked at Green with a piercing stare, and Green’s laugh only grew louder in Pidge’s mind.

“Dawn it is,” Pidge smiled.

“You won’t be leaving me behind,” Hunk insisted. “We go as a team.”

“Thanks,” Keith said, and a tiny smile graced his usually somber face. Hunk grinned back, placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“For now, though, let’s rest a bit. Pidge, how’s your animation study going?” Shiro asked. Pidge groaned.

“I haven’t had any time recently to work on them. Maybe I’ll do that now. Can’t bring rocks to life if I never study the practice,” Pidge pointed out.

“That’s my arcane mage of a sister!” Matt goofed, tousling Pidge’s hair in delight.

“Matt! Stop!”

* * *

 

Krolia was sitting on the floor as she stared hard at the white stones of the Castle of Lions. She’d had a chance to speak to the Black and Blue paladins during the battle, and she and the Yellow Paladin seemed to get along nicely when he was going around offering snacks to the rebels now based in the castle. He’d studied her face for a long time, and he’d greeted her warmly, not something many of the rebels were doing for her. In fact, the Freedom Fighters refused to mingle with the Blade. They were all dark elves, the same race as the one that made up the oppressive regime they’d all suffered under.

Hunk, the Yellow Paladin’s name, had been welcoming though. He’d regarded her as if she was an old friend he was a bit anxious to get along with, and he treated the other Blade members not much different. Then the Red Paladin and the Black one swept through the hall, taking Hunk with them.

Krolia had paid them little attention, but then she caught sight of the dagger at the Red one’s belt. It was a Marmoran blade, no doubt, even if the symbol on the hilt was wrapped up in cloth. Krolia recognizes the make well enough. She looked up to study the paladin himself, and her breath caught in her throat.

There is a turn of phrase which many fictional mothers have used upon recognizing a long lost child. Never did Krolia put much stock in fiction or fantasy, but upon seeing this boy- this boy with his sharp features, and his violet eyes, this boy with his dark hair, and pale skin- she revised her beliefs.  _ A mother always knows. _

And so Krolia had spent the last half an hour, perched on a polished chair made of birch wood, staring at a wall of marble stones, and wondering how in the hell she would introduce herself to her long lost son.  _ “Hello, I’m Krolia, I’m the mother you never knew.” “Your name is Keith, right? Haha, I know that because I gave you your name.” “Hello, Keith. I’m your mother, how’s your dad been?” _ Gods above, they were all horrible options.

Krolia ran her hands through her hair, stressed as she imagined how badly her reveal could go. He could reject her, angered at the idea that his mother is a dark elf, even if she was a Blade. Or even reject her out of bitterness for his abandonment. She wouldn’t blame him for either option. Honestly, she’d reject herself, on account of just being a terrible mother.

“Krolia, are you alright?” Ulaz asked, pulling Krolia from her daze.

“Hm?” Krolia asked.

“You have been out of it the whole time I’ve been here,” Ulaz commented. “Just staring at the wall.”

“Apologies, Ulaz,” Krolia sighed. “When did you arrive?”

“Only a moment ago. What is it that has caught your attention?” Ulaz asked. Krolia sighed.

“I left my calf in the hands of his father years ago, in hopes that the Empire would not reach him, in hopes that Terra would hold strong,” Krolia explained.

“Our intel says Terra is weakening by the day. The Empire has already brought down their barrier,” Ulaz surmised.

“It is not that. It seems my calf is a paladin, Ulaz,” Krolia whispered, her gaze falling to the white stone beneath her feet.

Ulaz blinked. Then he guessed, “The Red Paladin.”

Krolia nodded, putting her head in her hands. Ulaz sat beside her, planning his words carefully before he used them. There was silence for a moment while he did so, but it wasn’t comforting. With every second, Krolia could feel the weight of her own guilt pressing down on her.

“I should think,” Ulaz finally began, “that a mother can be proud of a young man such as he. He is strong, brave, and noble.”

“I am not ashamed of him,” Krolia said, shaking her head. “I am ashamed of myself.”

Ulaz studied her face, crimson irises searching scarlet. “Do not be ashamed of being incorrect. Be ashamed of doing nothing to correct yourself. Will you do nothing?”

“No,” Krolia insisted. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Ulaz’s gaze softened. Then he looked at the wall across from them, falling into silence. Krolia followed him into wordless company, and she studied her fingers. This time, she did not feel too ashamed. She merely felt anxious, wondering what she would do to reconnect with her son. Whatever it was, at least she had Ulaz at her side.

He was family, at the very least.

* * *

 

“Wake up,” Narti’s voice cut through the night. Lance woke at the gentle prodding of her cold hands.

“Narti?” Lance murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Must go. Now,” Narti hissed, already pulling the Harbinger from his blankets. His clothes were thin, silky looking pajamas Lotor had brought back a couple days ago along with the rest of Lance’s new wardrobe.

“Where are we going?” Lance asked.

“Away,” Narti stated, leading Lance through the halls, not stopping to grab a pair of boots for the boy.

“What? Why? I thought it was safe here?” Lance asked.

Narti shook her head, Lance barely catching the movement in the darkness. “Not safe. Lotor is lying.”

“What?” Now some fear leaked into Lance’s whispers. He clung close to Narti, his poor vision doing little to aide in their escape. A small part of Lance was already screeching about how right it was to doubt, but the rest of him couldn’t believe it. The rest of him screamed that it was lies. The rest of him was not as loud as the doubt.

“Lotor is cruel. Giving love only to tear it away,” Narti mumbled. She halted in her steps and cradled Lance’s head in her arms for a moment. “Must be hurting.”

Lance’s chest ached as she said the words. Was it really all a lie? Was Lotor really… playing with him the whole time? Pretending? Of course he had to be. No one had cared about Lance genuinely in a long, long time. Lance let out a dry sob against Narti’s shoulders.

“We run,” Narti insisted quietly. “We run, be free.”

The word made Lance hesitate. “What about Ezor? And Axca? And Zethrid?”

No, Zethrid had never done as the others did and go against Lotor’s rules for him, but Zethrid had been so kind to him while he was in their fortress. They’d all been so kind. Even if it had all been an act, he couldn’t disappear on them. Not like this.

“Loyalties lie with Lotor,” Narti said firmly. “Not mine.”

For a moment, Lance was so confused. Before he could ask any questions, however, a door burst open, and a light flooded the hallway. There stood Lotor, his other three agents at his back. Axca was stony face and cold as she stared ahead, and Ezor refused to look up. Zethrid had her seemingly permanent scowl on her face. Lotor himself, however, looked livid.

“How  _ dare _ you, Narti,” Lotor sounded angrier than Lance had ever heard him. “You are more than aware of how important this is to our cause.”

“Must be other way,” Narti argued. Lotor’s eyes narrowed.

“Girls,” Lotor snapped, and the three women behind him snapped into action.


	24. Tears Unshed Are Heavy to the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lions freak out, their emotions affecting their paladins to rather intense extremes. Allura learns some important information she didn't have before. Lance cries about things he can't control, because his life is not his to live, and he has no other way to make any choices. Allura calls a meeting to figure out just what they're going to do about the Harbinger. She learns some more important information. (She's also astonished that Sven and Shiro aren't brothers.)  
> Allura becomes the Crown of Altea.

Keith woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Red roaring and thrashing about his bedroom in the Castle of Lions. He jumped out of bed on instinct at her flaming panic as it flooded all his senses at once. There was danger- something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He tried to pay attention to the barrage of broken and unfinished sentences Red was spouting into their bond, but he couldn’t understand any of it. His blood was rushing in his ears, his heart in his throat. His vision was sharp and pulsing with adrenaline, and his limbs aches as he stood still, demanding to burn off the sudden burst of energy.

As soon as other sounds reached his ears, the sounds of lions roaring in panic, of footsteps running through the halls, Keith took off. Something rolled in the pit of his stomach, a cold dread. He half expected to stumble across a corpse of some sort, to suddenly step in cold blood or find an enemy with a stained weapon.

Red bounded ahead of him, frantic and quick in her movements. In their panic, neither the Red Paladin nor the Red Lion noticed the torch lights flicker into being as they ran by, or their teammates joining them in their frantic sprint through the castle.

It wasn’t until night air hit Keith’s face and soil scraped against his bare feet that he realized himself, and the panic began to ebb. What was he so worried about? He didn’t understand. He painted heavily to catch his breath, watching four lions and a manticore prance about the fields before congregating in the middle, under the moonlight, growling and snarling and roaring at one another in a frenzy.

Keith took his surroundings into stock, noticing Pidge at his side, her hair windswept and her glasses left behind, and Hunk beside her, a line of crusted drool on his chin. Shiro was at Keith’s other side, still dressed in his under armor, and Allura beside him, her hair a veritable nest. They stood in their confusion in solidarity, all catching their breath and looking around.

“The Castle has relocated, again,” Allura commented, taking stock of their surroundings. Red was still indecipherable in Keith’s mind amidst all her fire, so he latched onto Allura’s words as an anchor.

“Has it?” Shiro asked breathlessly, taking note of the field the palace had situated itself in. It was large and empty except for the knee length grasses and the line of trees along one horizon.

Pidge cleared her throat, “Should we check the map room? See where we are?”

“I think that would be a good idea, yes,” Allura said, sounding much more put together and regal than her appearance implied. She ran one hand through her hair in an attempt to settle it down. “Perhaps in the morning.”

“So, uh,” Hunk started awkwardly. He winced as if in pain and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “Anyone else know why the lions are freaking out? I can’t hear Yellow over this rockslide.”

“Plants have no right to be so loud,” Pidge agreed, knocking her fist against the side of her head once.

“Too much noise,” Shiro muttered. “I have no clue what could be bothering them.”

“Well, no doubt we’ll have to figure it out,” Allura sighed. “And I don’t think this will wait until morning.”

No, Keith was sure Allura was right, this couldn’t wait until morning. But even as the thought occurred, the fire began to simmer, and the lions in the field began to settle. Red’s tail flicked periodically, and her annoyance still boiled in Keith’s blood, her impatience still brewed a low heat in his mind.

 _He is being moved,_ Red snarled, words as heated as her flames had been only a moment ago. _We should go after them. We should find him._

“They’re arguing,” Allura commented. “About what, I’m unsure. I only have a fifth of the conversation.”

Keith noticed a bruise along her jaw as she continued to tug and pull her hair into a more dignified style. He wondered how the fight with Ros- _Veronica_ had gone. When he’d joined Veronica and the others for dinner, she hadn’t said much about it.

Remembering the dinner with the McClains was actually pleasant for Keith. He hadn’t seen them since he left them nearly ten months ago, and he hadn’t given a moments thought to seeing the, again. Cypress introduced himself as Marco, Falcon introduced himself as Luis, Lingon introduced himself as Enrique, and Hound introduced herself as Ana. The others weren’t around, having stayed up north in Alterna. A big family like the McClains would not go unnoticed in Altea if they all stayed together.

Keith almost felt like a part of the family the way they integrated him back into their lives that afternoon. Enrique asked him to come to his wedding up in some Alternan city Keith had never heard of, and Ana told him her kids missed their moody Uncle Kuro. Veronica was quiet. That was alright- she’d always been hyper focused on her goals, and she didn’t want to distract herself. That was probably why Keith liked her so much. She and Cypress were the two Keith was most comfortable with- Veronica for her familiar ache for justice, that ache to right some deep wrong, and Cypre- _Marco_ with his big warm embraces that seemed to penetrate to the bone.

Hunk was a lot like Marco in a lot of ways. Maybe that was why Keith took such comfort in Hunk’s touch- a comforting hand on the shoulder, a steadying grip on his arm while healing, a sympathetic hug after a rough night- that was just before bed. The two of them, while very different in mannerisms and quirks, seemed to brim with warmth.

Maybe Allura and Veronica didn’t get along because they were too similar. Both so insistent on accomplishing their goals that they couldn’t see how their goals actually intertwined. How Allura’s goal of a peaceful Altea was woven into the same cloth of fate as Veronica’s goal of a family made whole. Keith was no Harbinger, but he could just feel it in his gut. The two goals were much more closely connected than it seemed at first glance.

Wait.

“The Harbinger! Something’s happened to him,” Keith exclaimed, alarmed suddenly at the answer to the panic of their lions.

“Why would the Harbinger throw the lions into a frenzy?” Allura demanded crossly. “I’m afraid I don’t quite catch your logic there.”

“He’s connected to all of them,” Shiro said, dawning realization making his eyes wide. “They’re all connected to him- that’s why he knows us so well.”

“He does?” Hunk asked. He’d known that the Harbinger had seen that he was the Yellow Paladin, had known his name, but he did not think the Harbinger might _know_ him, and this was clear on his face.

It was clear on his face because Keith felt the same way, baffled and surprised. He wondered what the Harbinger had seen. The blood he’d spilt in his younger years? The things he’d stolen? The people he’d tricked, or conned, or taunted? Had he seen him with Shiro, trying his very best to better himself? Seen him with… seen him with his own family, the family he had never gotten to live with? Did this stranger he’d never met consider him an honorary McClain like all the others seemed to?

“We have to find him,” Keith announced. Immediately, Red purred agreement with him. “Wherever he is, if he knows us, then we have an obligation to know him too. He’s in danger, which means the whole world is too. He has Voltron in his blood. It’s there, waiting, and if he bleeds on the Altar of Oriande, bad things are going to happen.”

Allura’s pale brows furrowed, and her blue eyes darted from side to side as if studying a particularly difficult problem. Then her eyes widened, something unknown becoming obvious to her. “We have to save him.”

* * *

 

Lance could only think of one thing as the wagon travelled along a slightly bumpy earthen road. He was alone in the wagon except for Zethrid, Lotor sitting on the back of his own horse, a bit ahead of the wagon, and Axca and Ezor were steering the oxen. Zethrid did not speak to him, did not comfort him, but if he looked up he could see Ezor stiffen when he wept, and sometimes Axca would meet his watery gaze with a cold and detached stare.

Lance had been crying since the fight between Narti and the others. Narti had only just barely scraped her way out of the fight and escaped, but that left him with them. Them and the one memory that haunted him so horribly now.

Before, it had always been pleasant to think of the one precious thing he’d shared with Lotor. The warmth on his lips, the smoothness, the joy that burst in his chest at the feeling, the lights that sparked behind his eyelids. The tingles that remained long after the kiss had ended. His first kiss. Wasted on a man who cared nothing of him.

Lance knew now how he would die. He knew now that they were heading to the mountains- heading to that oh so cold snow where he lay and he bled and he saw the Green and Yellow paladins for the first and last time. He would die with a traitorous kiss lingering still on his lips, he would die with blood on his tongue, he would die without ever having known if anyone could genuinely, truly love him- without ever becoming strong. Lance would die, not in glory protecting those he cared about, but in shame.

It was pathetic that he was still weeping for this. It was pathetic that he tried to plead with the women who guarded him, pathetic that he believed they might have truly cared for him. It was pathetic that he looked to Axca begging to see some flicker of pity in her gaze, anything but the apathetic stare. It was pathetic that he sobbed out Ezor’s name over and over like a broken chant. She would not answer. She would not care. She would not go back to her warm sisterly presence. The game was done, the act was finished.

 _You are pathetic,_ Haggar used to tell him. _You are useless and you will never manage to do anything right. You are permitted to live only by my mercy._

He was pathetic. He was useless and he had indeed never managed to do anything right. Haggar’s mercy could not save him now, and Lotor… Lotor has no need for visions of the future. He had managed without them before, he would manage again.

 _You are pathetic. You are pathetic._ He was pathetic.

* * *

 

Slav, as a servant of Teladuv, was a nomad of sorts. Allura had known many Teladuv followers when she was young, but since she’d awoken, Slav was the first she’d seen. That was strange, as travelers who followed Teladuv’s preachings nearly always stumbled across the Castle of Lions whenever was most convenient. It was some sort of holy power granted them to appear before the servants of the Lion Goddess should they ever need a Teladuv cleric.

Now, Allura was calling a late night meeting, rousing the rebel leaders from their beds. Around the table now sat Sven and Veronica, from Alterna’s Swords of Gamara; Olia, Matt, and one other from the Freedom Fighters; Kolivan and Antok, flanked by a dark elf woman and the elf who had rescued Shiro- Ulaz; and Slav himself, perched opposite the table from Allura. Behind her chair stood Shiro, as the Black Paladin, and Coran, as her advisor. Allura was faintly aware of the other three paladins standing at the door, the lions around them. She was sure they might have cut an imposing picture- had the table been surrounded by enemies.

“Your Majesty, thank you for calling this meeting,” Slav began. “If my visions speak truly, then this will surely be a pivotal moment in the oncoming war.”

“I’m hardly a majesty yet,” Allura contradicted, unused to the honorific meant to show respect to a queen. “So then Teladuv’s powers still flow through Altea? You see the outcomes of our choices?”

“I’m afraid my visions have halted,” Slav sighed. “They tend to do so when things get… monumental.”

“In short, he means that something big is coming,” Sven said, his heavy accent breaking the illusion that he and Shiro could be brothers.

“I’m sure,” Allura sighed, feeling trepidation roiling in her gut. The Harbinger was not nearly so individual as she had believed. Before, she could put aside her guilt at leaving him in the hands of the Galra because she was saving the masses. But now it was the masses that were in danger- because she hadn’t let the paladins rescue him to begin with. It wasn’t one life in exchange for the rest, but simply all lives. She didn’t know how she’d managed to convince herself that one boy was less important, but she had, and it was eating at her gut as she thought about it.

Perhaps she really did deserve the way Veronica had laid her out on the sparring mat. Next time, she wouldn’t let her anger make it easy for the other woman to get the upper hand.

“It appears that though we have collected all the lions, the danger of power falling into Zarkon’s hands has not yet passed,” Allura began with a sigh. She waved her hand over the table, and little flecks of light lifted to form the shape of a mountain range. Behind her, she could hear Pidge and Hunk gasp in delight, and down the length of the table, she saw Matt wave his fingers through the turquoise light, little orbs bouncing around his fingers before going back into place. Allura smiled privately as she went on, “This is the mountain range that separates Altea from Alterna.”

“We’re familiar,” Veronica said with a scowl.

“This particular mountain,” Allura plowed on, gesturing towards the tallest mountain, near the center of the range, directly in the center of the round table, “is known as the Mountain of the Gods, Mount Aether.”

“Aether, like life energy,” Kolivan observed. “Quintessence?”

Allura schooled her expression to hide any of the distaste she felt at the dark elf’s presence, and that of his retinue. The only dark elf she’d ever really known was Zarkon- and he had only confirmed that which she was taught about the race: that they were evil and cruel.

“I myself don’t know much about the mountain, but yes, that is what it was named for. In the days of old, the days of my father’s reign, some of the elders believed that Mount Aether was a sacred mountain. That in the final battle between mythical tyrant Faldur and the Paladins of that time, the amulet was lost in the snow, somewhere near the Altar of Oriande,” Allura explained. She waved her hands over the map, and it zoomed in on the peak of Mount Aether, the tiny orbs forming the ruins of an ancient Altean temple.

“Faldur was not a myth,” Sven stated firmly. “The research my Swordsworn have done prove that Faldur does indeed exist, as did his amulet. I’ve had people searching for it for months now.”

“And yet it remains to be found,” Allura pointed out. “Runes and hieroglyphs can easily be recorded fantasies. Until an amulet is dug out of the snow that can control dragons, I will not believe Faldur truly existed.”

“Then why else would the Lion Goddess have given the world the Voltron lions?” Matt asked, raising his eyebrow curiously.

Allura narrowed her eyes at him. “Altea has had no shortage of shortcomings in its long, checkered past. The point is, that should this Dragon Amulet exist, it could take over the Voltron dragon itself.”

“Ah,” Slav said, realization dawning on him. “Yes, that will certainly be a problem.”

“While I do not believe the amulet exists, I find it hard to reason why we shouldn’t be prepared in case it does. The current Harbinger carries this dragon within his blood,” Allura explained. “Should the dragon be released and controlled by the wrong people, all the world will be in danger.”

“In all honesty,” Coran piped up at Allura’s right side. “The Harbinger has always carried the key to Oriande.”

“What do you mean?” Allura asked, confused.

“Every Harbinger since the beginning has held the key to Oriande within their blood.” Coran said simply. Slav said nothing, his face blank, and his gaze unsurprised. The others around the table, however, were just as confused as Allura felt. Frustration twisted her lips into a grimace.

“What do you mean _every_ Harbinger?” Allura demanded.

“How do you expect the Galra knew to find him? Every group of paladins has been foretold by a Harbinger. A Goddess Blessed man or woman who did not very often live past their adolescence, due to the extremity of the Goddess’s power,” Coran said simply.

From the opposite side of the circular table, Slave spoke up. “The word harbinger is defined as something or someone that acts as an omen to herald the coming of something important. Usually, something dangerous, but this Harbinger sees visions of Voltron, the paladins, and their lions, long before they even appear.”

“Then,” Allura began tentatively. “There was a Harbinger who foretold my father’s triumph over the Dragon King?”

Coran nodded. “And a Harbinger who foretold the coming of the first paladins, and the first Dragon King.”

Allura frowned, studying the table. Things were starting to jut out at her, like pieces of broken glass she hadn’t noticed were broken all this time. Like a broken mirror she only ever saw the shards of. “Was… _Reon_ a Harbinger?”

Coran’s features sagged, and his eyes looked sad. “Yes, he was.”

It made sense now, the words Zarkon had said as he revealed himself to her father. It made sense why Reon could have visions that foretold the future. Allura studied the map glowing above the table. “I’m sorry.”

The table did not respond, everyone looking at her in confusion. Allura lifted her gaze to meet Veronica’s brown eyes. “I am so sorry. As the true heir to Altea’s seat of power, I am not supposed to put any individual life above the welfare of the kingdom. I disregarded his importance to you, as his family, and disregarded his importance as the Harbinger. I didn’t understand. I think perhaps I might, now.”

“I do not need your apologies,” Veronica said, lifting her chin proudly.

“I still offer them. In hopes we can begin anew, and work together for a safer, stronger Altea.”

Veronica’s eyes darted over each inch of Allura’s face, discerning and studious and sharp. She was looking for any sign of falsehood, any flicker of dishonesty. She would not find it. Allura held strong, held proud, in her genuinity.

“Sven?” Veronica said, finally turning to look at her leader.

“I suppose it would be unwise not to ally ourselves with Altea’s true ruler. Alterna will need every strong ally we can get in the coming months,” Sven said. Again his accent disturbed the idea that he and Shiro could be brothers. Did humans always look so similar? None of the ones she’d seen looked much like Gyrgan…

“Thank you, Sven of the Swords of Gamara. We will value the aid of your people in the fight against Zarkon,” Allura said. She turned her attention back to the table, gesturing back to the map. “Well, the Altar is still there. Even if the dragon amulet does not exist, we should make for the Altar and try to save the Harbinger from Lotor.”

“If Lotor did get his hands on the dragon, how can we be sure he’d be our enemy?” The third member of the Freedom Fighter’s representatives spoke up. Her eyes were a bright violet, and her blonde hair hung in four braids. At each side of her neck were gills that marked her a nymph.

“What do you mean?” Kolivan asked, folding his arms.

“Well, what does blood really mean for loyalty?” The nymph asked. “All of you Blades are dark elves, just like Zarkon, but you don’t follow his rule.”

“Lotor is his son,” Ulaz’s companion spoke up. Her gaze flickered towards the paladins standing at the door. “It is rare that a child strays far from his father's example.”

“Except that Lotor is a halfbreed,” Veronica piped up. “He was raised on the outskirts of Altea, away from his father. Zarkon was ashamed of him. It’s likely he reciprocated the sentiment.”

“You’re saying he had other influences,” Matt commented. “He might not believe the same things his dad does.”

“Perhaps not,” Veronica conceded. “But my brother is still in danger while he is with him. Every minute we sit here speaking, Lotor gets closer to bleeding him dry on the Altar. The reason doesn’t matter.”

“The reason does matter,” Kolivan argued. “The prince might not want to control Voltron and wreak havoc on the world. We don’t know if _anyone_ can control the creature, let alone that Dragon Amulet. But if we could use Voltron against Zarkon? We would have the upper hand.”

“I also believe the reason is unnecessary,” Olia spoke up. “If Lotor is against his father, then so be it. But with all of our forces together, we should be sure to win. Voltron may bring casualties we aren’t ready to handle. As you said, it’s unknown whether or not Voltron can be controlled.”

“Princess?” Slav spoke up. “What do you believe would be the best course of action?”

Allura blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t expected it. She was the deciding factor here, if they all accepted her as the true crown. Allura blinked a second time. Everyone was looking to her for the final word.

“We ride for Mount Aether in the morning.”


	25. Promises Made to a Dead Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance sees hope for the world, but sees no hope for himself. He thinks a bit about death and how he'd prefer to do it. Coran thinks about the old days, before Zarkon went crazy. He thinks about death and how he'd prefer to see it. Then he decides he doesn't want to at all. And he's going to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I'm graduating in a couple of days, so I've been cramming to try and get things done, and that on top of my writer's block was making this a little hard. I also have been prioritizing my original writing, cause I was hit with, like, a tsunami of inspiration for an Arthur and his Knights in Space style sort of story, and I'm just. Swamped in stress on top of that. There's just a lot going on. But I still really love this story, and I'm working really hard to stay on track of everything!

 

_ The battle was fierce and furious. Blood soaked the earth, blades clashed and clanged, and the air tasted of fear. Everywhere people screamed, prayers to some god of war to survive, to win. They were unwitting who they were praying to, unsure where their prayers would take them. But Lance knew- he was not there, he was not with them, but still he could See them. He could hear their hearts. _

_ Ah, but this was after Lance had died. Of course he could not be with them, as they fought. As they screamed, as they unwittingly prayed to that god of battle. Flames danced in their hearts, in their eyes. The god of passion, of a warrior’s heart. _

_ Red painted this battlefield. It was in the blood of the fallen, it was in the rage of the living, it was in the fury of their shouts. But this was not the most important part, not to Lance. Lance who was not there, Lance who could See this, but never see it. _

_ No, in the center of the battlefield was the most important part. There, in utter synchronicity, locked in a beautiful and deadly dance, were two bitter enemies- a dark elf who betrayed those he once loved, and a man who tried so hard not to. Zarkon and Shiro fought with blades, the metal swords locked in an embrace. Shiro fought with his left hand, his magical arm tucked behind his back. Zarkon wielded a two handed greatsword. _

_ Shiro was not left handed. He was afraid of his magical arm. He was afraid to kill again, but Zarkon was cruel. Shiro was destined to kill Zarkon. The Harbinger had said as much. Lance wanted so much to grip Shiro’s magical arm and take away all his pain through the stone surface. But Lance was not there. Lance would never be there. _

_ Quickly, Zarkon disarmed Shiro. But Lance was not worried. He had had this dream many times since the first time. Now would be when Shiro ever so reluctantly used his arm. And there it was: the familiar tingle as Shiro activated the magic of it. The heat of the stone could destroy just about anything. Shiro swung at the emperor, violet light streaking brightly in the air. _

_ Another graceful battle, bodies bending and twisting as each hit tried to land. Then the very same finishing move that Lance had seen every single time he saw this same vision. Shiro’s hand plunged straight into Zarkon’s chest. Blood oozed from the wound, a dark crimson. Zarkon fell and all around Shiro, battle ceased. He stood above Zarkon, his glowing stone arm soaked with blood, his face grimly set in a grimace. _

_ Lance expected the vision to shift, to end and let a new one take its place, but the future did not release him yet. Shiro turned away from the body, making his way to his lion, the pitch black manticore with her colorful markings. Zarkon’s body trembled. _

_ The body trembled and shook, quivering fiercely. Allura shouted something, and Shiro turned. Rising from Zarkon’s body was a shape, a form, except it wasn’t either of those at all. Something dark, and shadowy, and terrifyingly familiar. _

_ Violet eyes glowed within a shifting black mass, and terror gripped at Lance’s heart. No. No. NO. He had to run, he had to go, that thing was going to destroy him! _

_ Before he could say anything more, the vision vanished, replaced by the sight of a white lion, a silver mane around his head.  _ Find me _ , he called.  _ Find me, my Paladin.

_ But who would ride such a fine lion? Why, only the best of course. There! Voltron, a multicolored dragon with a shimmering rainbow of scales, towered above the White Lion, terrifying in their power. Upon the White Lion’s back rode a shape. Someone Lance could barely make out. Around him were the other lions, their own Paladins mounted on their backs, far too small to see if he didn’t already know them by heart. _

_ The Shadow was moving fast, great and horrible in its speed and devastation. A bright light caught on a silver arrow as it arced through the air. Fire swirled around it. Then water. The earth stretched up in spines. _

Lance woke up shivering in the corner of the wagon, a crick in his neck from sleeping with his head lying on his shoulder the way it had. Zethrid beside him cracked open one eye, her legs and arms folded. She watched him as he settled back against the wagon’s sides, and he kept his gaze firmly on the floor to avoid hers. Zethrid closed her eyes again when she was satisfied he wasn’t going to be a problem now that he was awake.

Lance wished he had a pen. Then he wondered why he wished he had a pen- surely something that had become a symbol of his captivity would have become a thing he despised? Ah, but to see the faces of the Paladins- of his Paladins- in the waking world was so much nicer than the glimpses in his dreams. Perhaps a pen had been a symbol of his imprisonment, as it was the instrument he used to appease the woman who tortured him every day. But it was also a symbol of hope. He remembered the hopes and wishes that filled his very being whenever he sketched out their faces.

Lance wished he could go back to the days in Haggar’s dungeon, before the first time he dreamt of Zarkon’s death. Before she knew he knew who the Champion was, before she forced truth from his lips. Back when all he had to worry about was how rough Haggar was going to make his punishments if he went too far.

No.  _ No.  _ Lance wished he could go back to the days when all he had to worry about was whether or not he could stay awake long enough for Luis to explain the differences between frogs and toads to him. He wished he had been left alone to love his family for however long he got to be with them. He’d always hated Haggar, but he hated her even more so now, for taking a peaceful life away from him.

If Lance could choose how he died, it would be that way. Surrounded by his loving family members in a warm bed- under the stars, maybe, if he asked. Not forgotten, abandoned, in the snow!

Zethrid pulled Lance’s hands away from his arms. “You’re hurting yourself.”

That’s when he noticed the stinging in his biceps, the broken skin under his fingernails, the dots of blood on his arms. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter! How could she think it mattered when she was part of the exact reason it didn’t!? He jerked his hands free from her grip, but he didn’t go back to digging his nails in his skin. Angrily, bitterly, Lance spat out, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to die soon anyway.”

Zethrid’s expression went slack. “Maybe. But it can be quick. Painless.”

“It won’t be.” At his somber words, the girls all looked at him, faces blank and eyes piercing. Lance hunched in on himself, and the girls looked away. His eyes stung with the need to cry, but there were no more tears to shed. His head hurt.

* * *

 

_ “I’ve never loved another like I love you, Alfor,” The woman smiled, running her fingers through his silver hair. _

_ “Is there no way for the gates to remain open?” Alfor pleaded, the skin between his brows creasing. “No way for you to stay with me?” _

_ “I’ve already left you a part of me,” The woman whispered. “There’s nothing more I can do, my Love, not until the end of Faldur.” _

_ “I’ve defeated the Dragon King already, with your help,” Alfor insisted. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to be able to do.” _

_ “Faldur is not contained only by his fanatics,” The woman sighed. “Unfortunately, his immortal soul still plagues this land. I cannot find him, as immortals are hidden from those they wish.” _

_ “And what of Allura? She is your child, is she not? Don’t you wish to see her grow?” Alfor murmured. He nuzzled his partner as she pressed closer to him. _

_ “I would love more than anything to stay,” The woman promised. “But Faldur’s existence is the reason I cannot stay in the mortal world long. I must return to where it is safe for me. And unfortunately, my safety is only guaranteed in my prison.” _

_ “I’ll never see you again?” Alfor whispered. _

_ “I have left more than enough pieces of my heart behind to keep you company. Our darling Allura, my lions, and I even gave you the amulet that was hidden near my altar. The only thing that can control Voltron- The incarnation of my vengeance.” _

_ “And I will defend these precious pieces with my very life,” Alfor swore. “But please, Sada. Leave me one more piece.” _

_ Sada smiled, gently taking Alfor’s hands in hers. “One more gift, then, my love.” _

_ Sada removed her cloak- a black lion pelt with a furious mane, the upper jaw of fangs having framed her forehead. In her hands, it shimmered and transformed. She draped a blue cloak over Alfor’s shoulders. “This will protect you so long as the Paladins stay a united force doing good under my name. You will live a long and safe life, dearest.” _

_ “Sada, I don’t… I don’t know what to say,” Alfor whispered. _

_ “You are an elf, Alfor. So long as this cloak defends you, I have no fear that we will meet again.” _

_ Coran stepped away from the crack in the door just as Sada disappeared in a brilliant unraveling of light- as if her form were made of threads of color. Black, blue, red, yellow, and green unweaving and dispersing into the air. Coran cradled the mysterious infant in his arms even tighter. _

_ So the child had the blood of the Lion Goddess in her veins. Then Alfor opened the door, seeing Coran waiting for him just outside. “Coran! You’re here?” _

_ “I’m your chamberlain,” Coran reminded. “Your chief attendant, your advisor. I should think it is within my duties to be available for you at any moment.” _

_ “Yes, but. I had told the others I wished to be alone,” Alfor said. _

_ “I think it strange that you should wish to be alone so soon after learning you are a father. Especially as the mother must be lying. There’s no way you could have a child so soon after our harrowing adventure,” Coran commented. Alfor pursed his lips. Coran raised an eyebrow as he added, “Unless she is no ordinary woman?” _

_ “You saw that, then, did you?” Alfor frowned, indicating the conversation Coran had overheard. _

_ “Partially.” _

_ “Allura is not to know,” Alfor insisted, gesturing at the baby. “She is to be raised as any ordinary child.” _

_ “Ordinary princess,” Coran corrected. _

_ “Yes, I know,” Alfor rolled his eyes. _

_ Coran hummed softly. “Do you think the lions will know she is their kin?” _

_ “Their kin?” Alfor asked, surprised. _

_ “Well, you know,” Coran smiled. “The Lion Goddess created them. She is their mother.” _

_ “I believe the lions know already,” Alfor mumbled. “I want her as separate from them as possible.” _

_ “Of course, your Majesty.” _

_ “And Coran, I want you to do something for me,” Alfor said. _

_ Coran smiled. “Anything, my King.” _

_ “I have no delusions that I might die in battle one day. Even with a blessed cloak, I fear my life may come to great perils,” Alfor began. Coran wanted so badly to grip his Kong’s shoulders and sweat he wouldn’t let it happen, but now he had a much greater duty. Now there was an heir. Alfor continued speaking. “I want you to take the amulet and hide it somewhere no one will find it. Everyone will expect me to know, so I mustn’t. If the time comes that the Paladins cannot defend Altea anymore, do the same with the lions. Take the cloak for yourself, and use it to protect Allura. Keep the pieces of Sada’s heart safe, Coran, if I no longer can.” _

Coran sighed, clutching a small iron pendant tightly in his fingers. It wasn’t anything special- but the small crystal inside the iron cage swirled and shifted in color. Red and blue, blue and green, green and yellow, yellow and black. Always two colors at the same time, all bound with a turquoise sort of glow. It was twisted magic, the magic of the gods warped and manipulated until it was dark and wicked. A cruel kind of magic bent on domination. Coran shuddered to think that the magic of fate could be turned into an oppression of the will.

Coran had never hidden the amulet, afraid that if he did, it could be discovered. Instead, he wore it on a leather cord tucked beneath his doublet, hidden from sight. When the lions began to appear, he worried that they would realize what he held in his possession. But if they did know, they didn’t act on it. They allowed him to keep the amulet hidden. Thus, in keeping with his promise to Alfor, he’d managed to keep it all secret from Allura.

Coran knew he couldn’t keep it so. Prince Lotor was trying to free Voltron. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t think he’d be able to control the draconian incarnation of the Lion Goddess’s vengeance and rage. Perhaps, if he confessed now, it would save them some time.

A wordless cry of surprise shook Coran from his thoughts. Hastily, he slipped the pendant back under his shirt and pulled the horses to the side of the road.

Slav, the Teludav priest, jumped down from his carriage, and ran to the front of the group, where Allura and the Paladins day perched on the five lions. “The book was unopened! We have a hard journey ahead of us, but in the end, Voltron will prevail!”

“ _ Voltron _ will prevail?” Miss Veronica of the Swords of Gamara demanded, dismounting her horse and coming forward.

“Yes,” Slav said, and he looked at Coran knowingly. “Lotor will succeed in freeing the dragon, but not in controlling it.”

“So you’re visions have returned to you!” Allura said, quickly distracting from the obvious assumptions twisting Veronica’s expression, and the sizeable gathered army around them cheered.

“Should we need to, I will see again,” Slav said carefully.

“And my brother. He dies,” Veronica stated, and Coran noticed several members of her family closing in around her, as if they were all prepared to comfort one another should they need it.

“That is uncertain, as it is another split path all of its own, and I’m not sure what determines it. There are too many separate sets of choices, too many variables for me to isolate. But he has a chance,” Slav advised.

“Then we ride faster,” Veronica announced, all but jumping back into her saddle, immediately spurring her horse onward. Her family was quick to join in her new, determined speed, and the Paladins kept ahead of them easily. Allura lifted a sword- the blade of her father, proudly displayed at her back in addition to the whip at her belt- and ordered the whole caravan forwards. Carriage after wagon after wheelbarrow resumed their passage to the mountains of Altea. They were so close now, towering into the skies.

The Altar was at the top of the highest mountain. Mount Aether’s summit was above the clouds, invisible to the viewer from below. Coran had seen the Altar only once before. When Trigel’s sister, the last Harbinger, died to release the Lion Goddess. Sada, though her name was lost to all others. Though Coran had never gone to the Altar again, he still experienced for a second time the kind of deep rooted loss and horror he did at the Altar that horrible, but blessed day.

Eridea had bled out on the Altar willingly, citing that it was the only way to summon Voltron, the only way to save them all. The lions just weren’t succeeding. No one had thought that even Voltron would fail to contain the darkness, that even Voltron would let a bit slip unnoticed into Zarkon’s soul. Zarkon had been a good man, but with the darkness corrupting him, that which he loved quickly became that which he needed, that which he thrived off, that which he had to possess. Coran could remember the second loss, just as deep and painful, but on a far greater scale.

It began in full when Honerva disappeared, having gone missing in a hunt for Archane magic. Then Reon died first- his sickness killed him, he told Allura, but elves do not die of illness unless something is amiss. He knew she was suspicious of him at that excuse. After Reon’s death, then it was an invasion of the Capital. The Paladins were struck down one by one. Trigel met the bitter end of Zarkon’s blade, the Green Lion evaporating into leaves and her totem vanishing in a streak of emerald light. Gyrgan was struck down by the witch Haggar, a woman Zarkon had plucked out of some backwater swamp, most likely. Yellow, too, turned to sand. His totem flew away in a separate direction. Blaytz- that one hurt to watch, as his lover broke down at his side. Blaytz had still been alive when Coran saw Marmora pull the bleeding man onto the Blue Lion. He had no delusions that Blaytz could survive much longer. Coran watched the pair of them run, and he kept Allura safe. Alfor’s cloak offered them almost no protection, as the spell only worked so long as the Paladins were comrades in arms.

Coran didn’t want to watch anyone else die as he fought to keep his promises to the king. If the Dragon Amulet could truly be used by anyone, than could he use it to save everyone- even the young Harbinger. Older than most human Harbingers Coran had read of, older than Eridea had been. Then that was it. Coran would save the Harbinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wish me luck on entering the world of adults!


	26. Tears Shed Still Weigh Down the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt does some thinking, does some deciding, and Pidge and Hunk have been asking their lions about Lancey Lance. Krolia and Keith have a moment alone in the forest. It's pretty emotional and heavy. Then Lance has a vision he remembers, and that's also pretty emotional and heavy.

Matt Holt could only imagine being in Rose’s position. Uh, Veronica. Veronica’s position. He could only imagine how any of the McClain family felt. But, as an older brother, perhaps his imagination was closest. After all, all he needed to do was put himself in his sister’s shoes. She had lost him to the Galra just as the McClain bunch lost their youngest. Sure, his parents didn’t willingly let the Galra take him in exchange for prolonging his life, but. Well, the feelings of loss and hurt couldn’t be too different.

If Pidge had been taken by the Galra, Matt would have been devastated. If his father and mother had willingly let her be dragged from their home, Matt would have been enraged. He prided himself on his willingness to understand, but in such a situation he didn’t think he’d give his parents the chance to explain. Katie was his little sister, for crying out loud! When they were kids, she was only just starting to study magic. While she was quite a prodigy, Matt knew she wouldn’t have been able to defend herself from Galra soldiers, let alone Zarkon’s prize witch.

Matt hadn’t even expected his sister to be looking for him. His story began a little over a year ago, when his father hired Shiro to protect him on an excursion to find magical herbs and plants.

_ “I’ll do my best, Oligarch Holt. I’ll protect his life with my own,” Shiro said, bowing low to the man. Sam chuckled and shook his head. _

_ “No need to bow, Shirogane, I trust in your loyalty to my throne. That’s why I hired you, and not some other mercenary,” Sam insisted. Shiro straightened, a smile on his face. _

_ “Hired protection, my Lord. Not a mercenary,” Shiro corrected. _

_ Sam’s chuckle turned to a deep, belly laugh. “Of course, you don’t accept targets. I admire that sense of honor in you, Shirogane. Another reason I know my son will be in safe hands.” _

_ “Those bandits out there won’t know what hit them,” Matt chimed in, and Sam and Shiro noticed him standing by the carriage already. “We hitting the road?” _

_ “Matthew,” Sam scolded lightly. “Say your farewells to your family.” _

_ “Bye, Dad,” Matt grinned. “Tell Mom I love her, and tell Katie I’ll never stop calling her Pidge.” _

_ Sam laughed, and Shiro stepped forward, offering his hand to Matt. “Takashi Shirogane. Most people call me Shiro.” _

_ “Good to know, ‘Kashi! I have one ground rule for the trip,” Matt announced. Shiro’s brow furrowed at the mention of ground rules. Matt smiled. “‘Don’t be a buzzkill.’ Think you can follow it?” _

_ Shiro’s smile matched Matt’s in that moment. “Gee, I don’t know. I’ll try my very best.” _

And that was when Matt knew their friendship would be a good one. It was a sad thing that a few weeks into their trip, they were captured. It was a sad truth that after that, they were thrown into the dungeons of the Capital, where Shiro attacked him and injured his leg in order to save him from the arena. Unfortunately, they were separated and the guards began to discuss hanging him with their higher ups. Matt was useless now, even as the stolen heir to a small portion of the single city they had yet to conquer. Then, in a prison break, Matt and a few other prisoners were busted out of their cells, and Matt was caught up in the rebellion.

That was how Matt spent the past eleven months, working with Olia and rebels like Rolo and Nyma. Convening with the rebels from Alterna, trying to make some sort of treaty to help one another with their governments.

When Rose -erm. Veronica. When Veronica ran into the castle in the center of the Capital, Matt panicked. She’d gone alone, no backup, and the castle had to be the most protected place in the Capital. It was… surprisingly empty. And he’d bumped into his sister of all people. And she was a paladin.

Matt pushed his horse into a bit of a gallop, falling into stride beside his sister, who had recently taken to using only her dreaded nickname. She and Hunk were talking emphatically about something.

“But would it count as his own natural magic that he can see the future, or does he not have any natural magic in his blood at all?” Hunk was asking her.

“I think if the Lion Goddess was going to give anyone the ability to see the future, it’d have to be someone with magic in their blood. I mean, magicians are hardier than your average Joe,” Pidge commented. “Don’t the visions corrode the Harbinger or something? Veronica said that was why her parents let the Galra take him.”

“Yeah, but I was talking to Marco, and he said they didn’t have any history of magician family members, and magic doesn’t just randomly pop up in a kid out of nowhere. Magic runs in your blood,” Hunk pointed out.

“Well, what if the Lion Goddess gave him magic?” Pidge argued.

“She doesn’t have the energy for something like that,” Hunk shook his head. “It took her a lot just to talk to me in the temple at the Balmera farms. It probably took her just as much to talk to Coran when we met him. And I bet it took her a whole bunch more than that to give Lance the ability to see the future at all.”

“Then how did Haggar make it so he would survive? Magic on it’s own can’t just alter holy gifts,” Pidge insisted. “She had to have had help from something inside of him.”

Hunk shook his head. “He can’t be a magician, Pidge. Magic is genetic, not some sort of random occurrence.”

“There are ways to alter someone’s magic,” Matt piped up. “Plenty of plants have effects that, when added together, would change any number of things about a person. Some potions have been made that change a person’s sex.”

“Any potions that turn physically corrosive visions into dreams?” Pidge asked.

“Honestly, sounds like some kind of altered sleeping drought to me,” Matt shrugged. “But I’m not really an alchemical expert yet.”

Pidge and Hunk mulled the new information over in their minds, looking thoughtful. Finally, Matt decided to interrupt them. “So what do you guys know about the Harbinger other than his unlikely magical blood?”

“Uh, well, Green says he’s kinda naive,” Pidge commented. “Too trusting for someone who sees the future.”

“Yellow says that that’s a good thing,” Hunk chimed in. “I agree. Sounds like he sees the best in people.”

“Yeah, but he misses the bad,” Pidge muttered.

“Pidgey, never underestimate the benefits of some positive thinking,” Matt smiled. He ran a few fingers through his horse’s mane as he thought about the earlier days of his adventure with Shiro. Matt had given his canteen of water to a few orphaned nymph children who looked parched three days away from the closest river, and asked Shiro to give him their spare as well.

Shiro bought new canteens in the next town, and informed him that he was too trusting. They’d let the nymph kids camp with them that night, after all. They could have easily been robbed. Matt argued that they hadn’t been, so it didn’t matter, and Shiro had just laughed and complemented Matt on his big heart.

Luckily, their act of kindness didn’t come back to bite them at all. In fact, when they reached a river, the nymphs recognized them and gave them a vial of healing liquid. It had been stolen by the Galra when they were captured, but the sentiment was there, and it would likely have been of great help to them if they hadn’t been attacked and overpowered the way they were. Trust was, more often than not, rewarded by the gods in some small way.

“Green says he trusted Lotor, and look where that’ll get him,” Pidge retorted. Matt faltered, flashes of his time in the Galra prison returning to him. He hated to think about it, and tried his best to put those thoughts in the back of his mind, but he’d never forget the wave of hurt and betrayal when he thought Shiro had turned on him. He remembered the initial feeling of betrayal and hurt and fear- then Shiro went to fight, and Matt did not, and he realized the truth of what had just happened. And while their experiences are different, Matt could still sympathise with the boy.

In those few minutes before he realized the truth, he was devastated. Shiro had been his companion for weeks, at the time, and he’d thought they’d reached some sort of peak in their relationship. He’d believed they were as close as they could get, and in that moment, Shiro had seemingly  shattered the notion. But upon closer inspection, the situation was entirely different, their friendship still honored and close. Had Matt thanked him yet? Had he even spoken to him yet? He must’ve forgotten, swept up in the dramatics of everything else.

Really, though, Matt’s situation was incredibly different to the Harbinger’s. Lance must be feeling that same devastation though, shouldn’t he? If the Lions were saying he trusted Lotor too much, then he must feel horrible whenever he learned that Lotor wasn’t ever really on his side.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Matt smiled. “Cypress- er, Marco talks about him a lot to the Freedom Fighters. He sounds like he was a good kid. I hope the Galra didn’t warp it too much.”

“From what Yellow says, Voltron had more of an effect on him than the Galra did,” Hunk said with a small smile. “Yellow says all he wants is to help us.”

“Then let’s make sure he can,” Matt said. Hunk and Pidge agreed, and Matt found himself staring at his younger sister. She was so strong willed, he doubted the Galra would ever be able to control her, either. But if it was her in their clutches, he’d still never rest until he got her back. And apparently she’d do the same for him. Matt wasn’t about to refuse to help someone else save their little brother.

Slav said it was up to multiple variables whether or not the Harbinger survived this battle. If Matt was one of them, his choice was already made. His choice had been made since the first moment he realized that Pidge was his little sister- his responsibility. So Matt’s decision was made.

Lance McClain was going to live.

* * *

 

Krolia had been trying the whole trip to talk to the Red Paladin, but she didn’t think it was best to tell him she was his mother in front of all the rest. But he kept to Black Paladin’s side the entire ride, and atthis point Krolia wanted to rip her dark hair out. As they began to set up camp for the evening, she decided to find a private spot to just vent against a tree using the borrowed blade.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” a voice interrupted as she slashed at a tree trunk for the third time. She turned abruptly, to see Keith standing there, his hand coming up behind his neck. “You seem like you want some privacy. Just looking for a place to take a load off, don’t mind me.”

“No, no, I- I’ve actually been trying to catch you alone all day,” Krolia said. She winced at her own phrasing. Keith stiffened and studied her carefully, likely sizing her up in case they came to blows. Krolia tried to smile to seem less threatening. “I just mean- we’ve, uh, got some history in common.”

“I don’t remember you,” Keith said warily.

“No, um, I wouldn’t expect you to. I just- You were a baby,” Krolia confessed, studying the red tint to his eyes. So he did inherit some of her traits.

“Did you know my parents?” Keith asked, his eyes wide with hope, his voice a little hoarse. Krolia’s gaze softened.

“I knew your father very well, Keith. Because, um, I’m-“

“What about my mother? I don’t remember her at all,” Keith mentioned. Krolia swallowed thickly. There it was, the opening she’d been hoping for. There would be no easier time to say it.

“I’m. I am your mother, Keith.” Krolia wondered why the hell that had been so hard.

Immediately, Keith stepped back. “What?”

“I am your mother,” Krolia repeated, her mouth dry.

Keith sat down hard on a tree stump, his gaze clouded as his thoughts wandered. Krolia leaned against a tree for support, feeling a bit lightheaded after letting loose that information. After a long silence, Keith stammered, “How- why- you?”

“I had to leave because the Galra would’ve found me. They were looking for a Blade spy that disappeared somewhere around Kerberos. They had just reached Luna when I heard the news, and I had to get out of there to protect you. Those are human villages, the Galra wouldn’t have suspected you of being half dark elf because you look like any human, but I stuck out like a sore thumb,” Krolia babbled. “I told your father to take you to Terra, because the Galra couldn’t go there, and I left. I hoped I was protecting you both by doing so.”

“Dad never left Luna,” Keith mumbled, still not looking up from where his gaze was locked on a leaf. His hand rested on his belt, where a small blade rested, wrapped in cloth.

“That blade,” Krolia began pointing at the thing. “Is it mine?”

Finally, Keith tore his eyes away from the leaf, looking at Krolia before looking at the knife at his belt. “It’s the knife my father said belonged to my mother. It matches the ones wielded by the Blade of Marmora.”

“Then it was mine,” Krolia murmured, trying not to feel hurt at the stubborn refusal.

“Why’d you never come back?” Keith asked, his voice breaking. His eyes were watery, and his tone was heavy.

Krolia felt her heart sink, and she knelt down beside him, taking his hands into her own. Was hurt better than refusal? Did she have to have caused him this pain? “I did. I came back six years later, when I quit the Blade, and I looked for the both of you, but all I found was his grave.”

“You couldn’t come back sooner? We couldn’t just be a happy family?” Keith asked, his tears streaking his face.

“I tried,” Krolia swore. “I tried my very best, but the Blade- it takes up everything. It consumes your life until you can’t see anything except what’s good for the kingdom, and you forget what’s good for  _ you _ , what’s good for those you  _ love _ , and I kept rationalizing everything, all the time, but deep down I knew I had to get back to you.”

“If you were there, I wouldn’t have had to run away,” Keith wept. “I spent five years on my own.”

“I know,” Krolia whispered, pulling Keith close to her. “I  _ know _ . I didn’t know where to start looking, but I couldn’t even let myself  _ think _ that you were gone, because then what kind of mother am I? What kind of mother leaves her calf to die? I spent years living in- in guilt, and sorrow, and- Goddess, I was so scared, and relieved, and happy, and proud to learn that you’re the Red Paladin!”

Keith pulled away, meeting her gaze. Both their faces were tear stained and blotchy. “You’re proud of me?”

Krolia laughed, a wet, bitter, round sort of sound. “I’m  _ so proud _ . And your father would have been too.”

Keith sobbed at that, and Krolia cradled his head to her shoulder, trying her best to comfort him through her own tears. Her heart ached, and his cries sounded jagged and broken, and all Krolia could think was how fitting that all seemed. Here the two of them sat, in the middle of a forest, a shattered family with broken hearts and painful sobs.

There were too many of those these days.

* * *

 

_ He wakes up to a smell he doesn’t recognize. His eyes sting as they open, but eventually they do, and the world slowly comes into focus as he blinks. He’s tired, and his limbs ache, but he doesn’t wonder why. He recognizes this vision. It is a vision he knows now to be a fantasy. A vision he kept secret, and close to his heart, a vision that can’t happen. _

_ The soft, warm surface below him is Blue, but he will never be close enough to touch her like this. He slides off her back, because, while he is reluctant to let go of something he will never really feel, he cannot control a vision as if it were a normal dream. She gets to her feet and looks at him happily. He says something he cannot yet hear- he will not ever hear, and he says thank you. Then he follows the smell through a curtain of hanging sheets of leather. _

_ In this new room, he sees the Paladins. Allura is sitting beside Pidge, giving her advice about things, and showing her some strange magic she’s only just discovered herself. Shiro and Keith are simply together, basking in each other’s presence, Red and Black sprawled in their laps. Green is perched on the counter with Yellow, watching Hunk cook expertly. Blue enters the room  and Allura looks up first. _

_ Her beautiful face, currently free of Altean war paint, splits with a beautiful smile, and she calls the others to come greet their guest. _

_ The Paladins all offer their various skills in battle or magic or other, should he ever need their aid. He thanks them and refuses, stating that they are far too important, and his skills are no longer useful. He tells them their offer should be reversed, and he would gladly lay down his life in exchange for theirs. _

_ He gets only blank looks in return, and he knows what happens next in this vision. He knows what will go next, and he wants to wake up, he doesn’t want to be tainted with things that will never happen, he doesn’t want to see this mere dream for the tenth time- _

_ He asks what is wrong, and Hunk crushes him into a hug. It is everything he has ever wanted, everything he could ever have asked for. He cries as he wraps his own arms around Hunk in return, thanking him as he buries his face into the warmth. He’s soft, so soft, and Lance is overjoyed. _

_ Lance cries, even when the vision fades away, he still cries, and he cries into darkness, and he cries when he wakes. He cries because he will never know the truth of Hunk’s hugs, because he will never see the real intensity in Keith’s eyes as he pledges himself, he will never have Allura smile for him, or Shiro place his hand on his shoulder, or Pidge offer her magic to him. _

_ Lance cries. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I didn't get this out BEFORE July, but I got it out in the first week, so... sorry, but I tried? Anyway, here it is! Also, it's probably not very good, but... well, I like it! Right now, anyway. So I hope you guys like it!


	27. Sweet Vows of Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezor, Zethrid, and Axca do some thinking about who they are and what they want to do next. Lance is a Sad Boi who is Sad. Shiro and Matt perform a knighting ceremony that has some serious subtext. Keith kind of has a normal morning for once... until Allura ruins it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started writing another story, I Dreamt of Quests, because there's a scene here where my love for the Shatt ship kind of got out of hand. I asked for advice and my date mate said I should just write another story where All The Gay happens, so I did. I promise, I'm trying my best to reign it in. This is actually the third draft of that section, too, because the first one was... a bit of a doozy.

Ezor felt horrible, and that was saying quite a bit, because Ezor never felt guilt. She’d killed, stabbed, stole, all without even a flicker of regret. But this… this was like doing any of those heinous things to Axca, or Zethrid. Or, hell, even Narti- who she’d kind of. Just betrayed. But she didn’t hurt her! Maybe that’s part of why she got away. But see, that would have been okay! That was just business! But this…

Lance had cried up until he had no more tears to cry, then he’d dry heaved a little before eventually he fell silent. And he stayed silent. Then he’d seemingly fallen asleep, then he’d been angry. And, yeah, Ezor would probably be angry too, but gods above, it had hurt so much when he snapped at them. When they made camp for the evening, Lance had gone to sleep no problem. Then he started crying while it was Ezor’s turn on watch.

The whole night she’d been sitting there on her claimed rock, trying to pretend she didn’t hear Lance trying to silence his own whimpering sobs. Gods, she’d seen people cry on their way to the execution block,but at least their ends came quick. Lance knew he was going to die almost three days before the whole Narti thing, when he found out how it would happen, and when.

The air had been quite for a few minutes before Ezor had the guts to whisper to the tall grasses hiding her form and allowing her to watch for any enemies. “I’m sorry.”

“I was going to die anyway,” Lance’s voice carried over to her. Ezor turned to look at him. The stars reflected in his big eyes, looking just like a lake as they did so. His face was rubbed red, his eyes swollen. “I’ve seen enough futures where it has to have happened, even if I only saw myself die once. I never saw myself in the aftermath of any of the pleasant futures.”

Ezor didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure there was something that gave you hope.”

“There was.” And Lance’s eyes fell onto the buttercups growing around them, their color disguised by the dark, but still recognizable. “The color yellow, actually.”

“Why’s that?” Ezor asked, reaching for the yellow parts of her hair.

“Because the Yellow Paladin was a good hugger,” Lance said simply, plucking a buttercup and holding it to his nose. He smiled sadly as he pulled it away. “And I could really use a proper hug.”

Ezor stared at him. Lance was such a mystery to her. Such a soft, naive, good-hearted person had survived years of imprisonment with only Galra guards and Haggar for company? She’d met the old hag, and she wasn’t pleasant. “You must be some sort of wizard, kid.”

Lance laughed bitterly. “Maybe then I’d be worth something. Can’t even save myself right now, with only one person watching me to make sure I don’t run.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty fast. I’d catch you before you got too far,” Ezor commented.

“You’d catch me before I could stand,” Lance mumbled. Ezor’s ears pricked.

“Sorry, what?”

“You’d catch me before I could stand. I’m a bit woozy right now,” Lance explained. “But I don’t want to dream.”

Ezor bit the inside of her cheek. She studied the way his shoulders slumped, the bags under his eyes, and the pale parlor to his skin. He looked exhausted, despite the sleep he’d been getting on the way up here. “You should still sleep.”

“No way,” Lance scowled. “Not if my dreams are going to keep lying to me like this.”

“What do you mean?” Ezor asked.

“I’m never going to see the Paladins, so I don’t understand why my dreams keep saying I will! I know I’m going to die, I saw it happen, there’s no way I could survive bleeding out in the snow that way!” Lance hissed. “I don’t want to keep dreaming about the impossible.”

Ezor’s heart ached at the broken tone of his voice. “Hey… could you tell me about your Paladins?”

Lance stared at her for a long minute. Then he stared at the buttercup in his hand. He smiled sadly. “Hunk is kind. He wants nothing more than to help everyone live in a safe and peaceful land. He supports his teammates and he advocates peace. He understands, he listens, and he digs deep.”

As Lance talked about the Paladins, Ezor tried to listen. She really did. But all she could see was the gradual return of genuine joy to Lance’s features, as he babbled about Allura’s courage, and Keith’s determination, and Pidge’s formidable combination of the two. While he was talking about Shiro and his wisdom and care, the poor boy was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Get some sleep,” Ezor advised, running a hand through his hair. Lance sighed pleasantly before seemingly doing just what she’d asked. “Sleep tight.”

“The two of you are close, aren’t you?” Zethrid’s gruff voice startled Ezor, and she looked back to see her large friend comfortably settled with her chin in her hand and her pillow bunched up under her arms.

“Well, yeah. I guess you could say we are,”Ezor shrugged.

“He’s really never seen us in his visions, huh?” Zethrid mused.

“That means Lotor’s plan won’t work,” Ezor mumbled.

“Or it means the gods never saw him coming,” Zethrid contradicted.

“But he saw himself bleeding in the snow,” Ezor reminded.

“Lotor said that all the previous Harbingers have died on the Altar in order to release the Voltron dragon. The Paladins would have had to kill him anyway.”

“What if he doesn’t need to die?” Ezor asked. “What if we do all this without Voltron? We can still stop Zarkon, can’t we?”

“Unlikely. Zarkon survived thirty eight assassination attempts in one year when he first took over,” Zethrid pointed out.

“Or so we’re told,” Ezor argued. “But I can’t let Lance die. The world is already lacking enough in people like him!”

Zethrid said nothing for a long minute. “You’re right.”

“So what’re we going to do about it?” Both Zethrid and Ezor looked surprised to see Axca turn over in her bed roll to join the conversation. But, her question was entirely valid. What were they going to do about it?

“Whatever it takes,” Zethrid easily announced. Ezor and Axca both blinked at her. Then, Axca nodded before turning back onto her back and counting the stars to sleep.

Ezor smiled, glancing over at Lance’s sleeping form. “Yeah. Whatever it takes.”

* * *

 

Shiro was watching Hunk and Coran set about making breakfast for the… well, army, they had collected back at the castle. They’d been traveling slowly, and Shiro was beginning to think maybe the five of them should go up ahead, just in case.

Halfway through his musings, a small hand fell onto Shiro’s shoulder, and he leapt off his fallen log to his feet, whipping around with his sword out, only to find- “Matt?”

“Sorry! Didn’t realize you were so distracted,” Matt said sheepishly.

Shiro smiled. “No, don’t apologize. I really should be careful, don’t want to trigger the arm.”

Matt’s eyes studied Shiro’s arm carefully. “Right. Animation magic, right? Maybe a, uh, golem enchantment?”

“Aren’t golems, like, controlled by their creators?” Shiro asked, feeling dread curling around his lungs. Matt laughed.

“You’re right. This can’t possibly be a golem spell anyway, you’re controlling it flawlessly,” Matt commented. He smiled and brushed his fingertips against the cool stone, where it met with Shiro’s skin. Shiro twitched, tingles shooting through his shoulder at the touch. He met Matt’s eyes again, the aspiring alchemist already pulling his hand away like he’d burned himself. Matt laughed a bit awkwardly under Shiro’s gaze. “I have to admit, I didn’t do much reading about animation magic. I just know what I found while looking for potions that cure petrification.”

“What did you find?” Shiro asked, genuinely curious. Matt snorted.

“There’s a plant called a howling snapdragon that sounds exactly like a grown man weeping, apparently, and a type of root that tap dances when you try to harvest it. But I didn’t come find you to nerd out about magic and weird plants,” Matt said, wringing his hands a bit in that way that said he was planning his next words carefully.

“Oh yeah? What did you want to talk about?” Shiro asked. Matt blinked up at him.

“‘Kashi, um, Shiro, I wanted to thank you,” Matt said. “You saved my life by stepping in for me in the arena, even if it separated us. That was probably for the best anyway, or I’d never have found my place with the rebels, and you’d never have found your place with Voltron. And thanks for, you know, keeping an eye out for my little sister. And for- for everything.”

“It wasn’t really all that much, Matt,” Shiro confessed. He wasn’t sure how much he liked the way Matt seemed to pull away from his old friendly nickname. “I wish I could’ve done more for you.”

“But Shiro! You saved me! You could’ve let me die in the Arena, I wasn’t your problem anymore,” Matt pointed out.

“Not my problem anymore?” Shiro raises one eyebrow at Matt. Then he knelt down, ignoring the way Matt squeaked in protest, and bowed his head. “Prince Matthew Holt of Terra, I swear to you and the Gods above that never will the act of saving your life burden me, or weigh upon me. I swear to protect you at any cost, and if it should come to it, that includes forfeiting my life to save yours. If you would allow it, I wish to be your knight.”

“Oh gods, Shiro, get up, people are staring!” Matt hissed.

Shiro finally looked up, quickly paralyzing Matt with the seriousness in his gaze. He smiled as softly as he could at Matt, though his honesty still weighed down the mood a bit. “Do you accept my pledge?”

Matt smiled back, tucking his hands behind his back. “I do. Takashi Shirogane, you will arise a knight of my land, and in service to my name. Do  _ you _ accept this burden?”

“I do,” Shiro promised, lowering his head in a bow again. He heard the fumbling as people rushed forward to offer Matt a sword, and the prince cleared his throat when it was all done.

“Then, Sir Shirogane, will courage,” The flat of a blade gently tapped one of his shoulders, then the other, “and wisdom light your path.”

The people all around them immediately burst into applause as Matt ducked down to help Shiro to his feet. Matt’s entire face was bright red. “Not the most  _ traditional _ knighting, but it’ll do, I guess. Why did you do that?”

Shiro grinned. “Now you’re always my problem.”

Matt smiled, looking at the ground. Then his brow furrowed, and he met Shiro’s gaze again. “Now that you’ve done that, though, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Shiro granted.

“Don’t ever try to die for me, ‘Kashi. Because if you die, you’ll leave me with no choice but to storm the Underworld and demand that the goddess Leira release you from death just so I can smack you for it,” Matt argued.

Shiro laughed. Trust Matt to keep his faith when faced with proof of a different one’s existence. “You still believe in the Queen of the Dead after all this?”

“Well duh,” Matt smirked. “The Lion Goddess’s existence only corroborates the idea that Leira exists. Now, do you swear to me?”

“I promised to do anything to save you, Matt,” Shiro argued.

“Anything that won’t kill you. That’s all I ask,” Matt pleaded.

Shiro shook his head. “If it kills me, then it would kill you if I didn’t step in to save you.”

“Dammit, Takashi! We’re friends, equals! I can’t let you die either!” Matt snapped. 

Shiro blinked, surprised at Matt’s tone. Finally he said, “Alright. I won’t die. And you won’t die. Neither of us is dying unless the other one says it’s okay.”

Matt snickered. “Stop, I’m trying to be mad, you ass.”

Shiro grinned at his friend. It was so strange that what started as a job had become so much more. The drastic changes in the past had all led to this- and while, no, it wasn’t a restful day on a beach in Terra, it was still nice. The calm before a storm, the calm of being surrounded by friends and allies, the calm of swearing to protect one another from death. The good cheer that painted itself across the face of a prince, even in the face of another harrowing few months of battle.

For now it was just Shiro and Matt, under the canopy of leaves, waiting for breakfast to be made.

* * *

 

Keith smiled at the display before him. Traditionally, a prince’s personal knight would wear the prince’s crest. Matt hadn’t worn his own crest in a little more than a year, and they weren’t back in Terra, where they could easily request a cloak or tunic with his crest emblazoned on the front. So instead, they repainted the front of his armor with the few paints Allura had stored in her saddlebag. They didn’t get rid of the black Voltron V, as this knighting didn’t mean Shiro could no longer be a Paladin.

Instead, Matt was painting his crest, a single maple leaf, just above the Voltron V in the same black ink. It was a little strange to see his pseudo brother laughing anytime Matt stained his finger or messed up the leaf. Keith had never seen the two of them together, and last he heard before Shiro left was that he was curious about the prince’s personality. But there he was, chuckling as Matt took a wet rag to the small maple leaf.

“Tell me a little about Sir Shirogane,” Krolia prompted. They’d spent the evening just spending time together, in each other’s company, silent. He’d asked her what to call her, she’d offered up her name, and he took it gladly. Mom was too… difficult to use right now. Maybe always.

“Shiro? He took care of me. He found me in the East on one of his escort jobs. He had just dropped off some merchant, and he was heading back and saw me under a bridge on the riverbank in the rain,” Keith explained. “He took me home, and here we are.”

“He seems like a good man,” Krolia said. To her credit, she didn’t seem to need to ask how he wound up in the East. “With a good heart.”

“He was teaching me how to do what he did. I was… his apprentice, I guess.”

Krolia nodded. “I was apprenticed to your uncle, Thace, for awhile. Then he got an undercover job under Commander Prorok.”

“Thace?” Keith asked. “I have more family?”

Krolia looked surprised at the question. “Well, yes. Have you met Ulaz? He is Thace’s… lover, you could say.”

“I haven’t,” Keith shook his head. Krolia smiled a bit.

“Well, we have plenty of time to fix that now that we’re together.”

Krolia gripped Keith’s hand in her own and squeezed tightly. Keith just wanted to wrap his arms around her and be hugged again, but they’d only met yesterday. It was too uncomfortable a thought to hug a stranger, even after they’d cried into each other’s shoulders as the sunset cast strange shadows all around them. This… holding hands was enough. It was.

Hunk and Coran’s voices called through the clearing.

“I’m going to get some food for the two of us. Breakfast seems to be ready,” Krolia said. Keith let her, knowing she was eager to provide him with something. Instead he just watched Matt punch Shiro, only to hit solid armor and cry out in pain.

_ You’re happy, _ Red commented, the lioness taking his mother’s seat on the fallen tree. Keith rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to sound smug. It happens sometimes.”

_ Rarely. I thought I’d have to start wrestling joy out of you _ , Red said, her tail flicking. Keith chuckled.

“No.” He thought about Matt and Shiro laughing together. He thought about Krolia holding his hand to comfort him. He thought about Hunk making breakfast, and Pidge trying to cast spells on small pebbles. He thought about how close they were to reuniting another family. “I think I’ve finally figured it out.”

_ You were never meant to be a lone wolf _ , Red hummed just as he thought it.

Keith’s smile turned a little sad. “I was never meant to be lonely.”

“Keith!” Pidge ran over to him, Green hot on her tail, something cupped in her hands. Keith stood up, ready to give the youngest paladin whatever attention she needed. Pidge held up her hands, and a tiny pebble was sitting inside. “Look!”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the pebble rolled over and two tiny little legs wiggled in the air. Keith’s eyes widened. “Is that-”

“One version of animation? Yes! The easiest, actually, because you’re conjuring thin limbs for a small inanimate object- can’t be any bigger than a rat or mouse- but they can’t really do anything except carry messages. Animation really is a skill lost to time,” Pidge pouted as she helped the tiny pebble onto its feet.

“How does it carry messages?” Keith asked.

“Like this! Poke it,” Pidge prompted, holding the little pebble out to him. Keith shrugged and poked the tiny pebble. Green smoke puffed out of the little creature, and Pidge’s shape began to form within the thick cloud.

Cloud-Pidge said, “Testing, testing, one, two- Green, where are you going?”

“Wow,” Keith whispered studying the pebble closely, but seeing no difference. “How does it make the cloud?”

“Magic, duh,” Pidge rolled her eyes. “It’s part of the animation spell, doofus.”

“So, where was Green going?” Keith asked.

“She went hunting. Apparently, they can eat, even if their bodies are just magical projections,” Pidge explained. Keith grimaced at the memory of Sendak being torn up between Red’s teeth.

_ You’re welcome, by the way. _

“I knew that already. I didn’t know they actively went hunting though,” Keith commented.

“Green seems to enjoy eating. She hasn’t given me any other reason for her hunting excursion earlier,” Pidge frowned at her lion, but Green just rolled her body in a facsimile of a shrug.

“Maybe next time she can be the one to devour our enemies,” Keith said, glaring at Red.

“Is that what happened?” Pidge asked, staring at Red in surprise. Red copied Green’s rolling motion from before.

_ It worked, didn’t it? _

“I guess. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t fucking disgusting,” Keith muttered.

Krolia returned just then, offering Keith a small bowl filled with porridge and strips of bacon, a single egg on top. “Here you are. Is this the Green Paladin?”

“Ah, yeah. Krolia, this is Pidge, the Green Paladin of Voltron. Pidge, this is Krolia. She’s my mother,” Keith introduced.

Krolia smiled cordially. “Glad to meet you, young Pala-“

“I’m sorry, hold on. Did you say she’s your mother?” Pidge demanded. That grabbed everyone’s attention, but most people immediately went back to whatever they were doing. The other Paladins, however, quickly made their way over.

“Yes?” Keith said hesitantly.

“I thought you were an orphan!” Pidge exclaimed, bewildered.

Allura’s expression was unreadable as she arrived, standing behind Pidge and staring at Keith’s mother, her gaze like knives. Hunk, though, looked delighted as he appeared, still wrapped up in an apron and smiling big and welcoming at Krolia. Shiro just looked stunned, a grinning Matt at his side.

“Well, I guess we know where Keith gets his good looks from! I knew it couldn’t be any old human,” Matt teased.

Krolia smiled fondly at the words. “Oh, believe me, Keith looks more like his father than he does me.”

Matt looked doubtful, but he simply smiled. Finally, Shiro snapped out of his shock. “It is such an honor to meet you, Krolia. I’m Shiro. I hope that, with time, we can grow to be like family. I see your son as my brother in every way that matters.”

“Shiro,” Krolia tested the name out on her tongue. Then she smiled. “Don’t you worry about all that. You raised Keith when I couldn’t. If you’re family enough for him, I trust his judgement.”

Shiro smiled. Hunk spoke up then, distracting Keith as Krolia pointed out the messy leaf painted on Shiro’s chest. “Keith, I hope you know this doesn’t change anything. We may not have known you were part dark elf, but nothing’s different because of that.”

Keith blinked, and suddenly a weight he hadn’t realized was there lifted from his chest. Hunk’s gaze was earnest in its kindness. “Thank you, Hunk.”

“You can always talk to me if you need a listening ear,” Hunk swore. “I'm here for all of you.”

Keith nodded. Hunk nodded resolutely and went hurrying back to continue helping Coran serve the rebels their food.

“I’m still surprised you’re not an orphan,” Pidge huffed. “You acted like one for a while.”

“I might as well have been an orphan. I only met Krolia last night,” Keith commented as Krolia went to fix Matt’s terrible paint job and talk about, um,  _ Keith  _ with Shiro.  Keith shifted awkwardly when he noticed Allura’s dagger gaze still locked into his mother.

Pidge nodded understandingly. “I guess that makes sense. Well, I’m going to go… show this off some more. Get some breakfast. Enjoy yours, by the way.”

When Pidge left, Green following close behind, Allura finally turned her gaze onto Keith. Keith met it evenly, blankly. Finally, Allura said, “I will not judge you for your parentage, because you have lived most of your life with no memory of them. But I will not trust your mother in any of her actions, and if I ever have reason to suspect your motives are shifting for her, I will abandon my faith in you.”

Keith’s heart sunk a little. Red growled beside him. “I understand.”

He sat down and began to eat his breakfast. He didn’t notice the way Blue glared at Allura, or the way Allura huffed and stormed off, eyeing Krolia warily from across the clearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I think this is the longest chapter! Probably because of how rambly and long the Keith section got, lol. Sorry.


	28. The Shadow Within the Shadow Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarkon's life story is pretty tragic. So is Lotor's. And also his agents have sucky lives. But it's all... not really okay. Lance is pretty sure all is lost- oh, hey Red!
> 
> Also this is a bit of a leap ahead from last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure this is the best place for this chapter, but it's where my muse took me, so... hm. Wish I were more of a plotter.

Zarkon had long since lost the ability to feel, and with his empathy so too had Honerva’s entire being ceased to exist, replaced by the shell that was Haggar. But for many months after their initial tainting, the former of the pair knew what was happening, he knew that they were trapped within themselves. He pulled himself through the days, clinging to his now immortal body, with the power of his love for his wife. But with each day, he recognized her less and less.

Honerva was dying, slowly being replaced by the darkness within, by Haggar. The new Harbinger had already been born, an omen of bad things to come, but if Zarkon could simply open the gates of Oriande, if he could only set free the Lion Goddess he could - _ destroy her _ \- save his wife! So he turned to Alfor, his new wife at his side. He gifted them with another gift from his family, a present for Alfor’s second born, for his first son.

Reon was a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Zarkon was envious in his heart of hearts, but he focused on the task at hand. He needed the boy’s blood to - _ kill the Lion Goddess _ \- save his truest love from the darkness. Zarkon tried to ask as casually and noncommittally as possible, but even so, Alfor reacted badly. They had a vicious argument, and Reon began to scream in agony as his veins pulsated with turquoise light, and his big eyes glowed. Had he been able to speak, perhaps they could have deciphered some sort of clue as to what would befall them all in the coming years. But Reon was still an infant.

Honerva was still dying, her soul shriveling within the blackness that had possessed her. But even the darkness could not stop Honerva from gladly celebrating when she discovered she was with child. Zarkon was delighted, and for many months it was almost as if the two of them could fight back the mysterious darkness with no trouble.

Then Honerva passed. Her body had lost itself, it didn’t understand anything for itself yet, and Zarkon was forced to accept that his wife would never return to him - _ but a magician’s body is still useful _ . Zarkon was desperate, however, and he hired the best magicians in the land, aside from his dear wife, to save the baby from within her. He worried that a soulless husk could not birth a healthy boy.

The boy was healthy. Zarkon named him Lotor and left him with his servants. He’d come back later - _ besides, the boy was of no use to him this young _ . He didn’t come back later. Instead, he poisoned Reon, bitter that his wife did not live and the young prince remained living.  _ And his visions would only reveal his plot before he was ready _ .

Lotor was growing well. He was beginning to say his first words already, and all the nursemaids were very excited about it. But Zarkon paid that no mind as he prepared his attack on Altea.  _ He needed the Lions _ \- Alfor was not a good king, selfish and cruel, putting his own spare before the good of his people.

Zarkon’s feeling soul died when Black sealed herself away with Allura and Coran in the Castle of Lions. It died when he slew his dearest, oldest friend. It died as he donned the torn up cape of his dear friend, wearing it beneath his own, as a sign of his - _ guilt and sorrow for the loss of his brother _ \- triumph over Altea. But Zarkon himself was  _ not _ dead. He suppressed the darkness as much as he could but over the decades his strength began to fail him.

And all the while, he gave no attention to his son, growing up in a small fortress on the western beaches of Rygnirath, the tower of Beta Traz in the distance out to sea. Prince Lotor was a sweet soul when he was young. He asked the nursemaids when he’d see his father, hopeful and golden and gentle. They never had the heart to tell him how little Zarkon cared. Perhaps that was their mistake.

Lotor loved history. He especially loved the few stories he could find about high elf society and tradition and such. The nursemaids said his mother was a high elf, but she was dead now. The nursemaids told him some people may not treat him well because he was a halfbreed. But Lotor was young and hopeful and sweet, and their coddling did nothing to make him any more wary.

The first Lotor heard of his father, the man was assigning him a tutor- six years late, as if the nursemaids hadn’t been teaching him since they realized no tutor would come at his fifth birthday. The old woman was harsh, cold, and cruel. She pushed him harder than the nursemaids ever had, but they did not have the bravery to speak up about her behavior to the emperor. Dayak still cared, however, and even she did not tell the boy his father would never care for him.

When next Lotor heard from his father he was far more jaded about the man, and he held a bitter resentment towards his old nursemaids for coddling him so. Still he lived in the fortress on the beach, overlooking the sea with a tower far off in the waves. Lotor was a mere teenager at the time, and Zarkon sent Prorok to teach him how to fight. Prorok was not a cruel man, but he was not kind. He had a lot to say about how Lotor would not get special treatment as a prince, because he was but a halfbreed, and a shame to his father besides. Lotor did not appreciate this.

As he grew, the only thing Lotor had to comfort himself with were the legends and stories about Voltron. They were hard to come by, as Zarkon spent his reign trying to destroy any source containing the truth, but slowly Lotor began to amass a small collection of legends and stories. Very, very few were of Voltron, however.

It was later in his life that Zarkon sent Lotor to Alterna. Lotor loves it there. The high elves respected him far more than any dark elf had, considering his being half their race making him better than those who were not at all. It was a new spin on the halfbreed way of thought, and Lotor embraces it wholeheartedly. And beyond that, he found untainted records of Voltron and it’s legends. Alterna was perhaps the best thing to happen to Lotor.

But eventually good things must end. His father was a madman who needed to be stopped. So Lotor returned to Altea, and he gathered halfbreeds who would be loyal to him, and him alone.

Axca was found on the streets. Lotor saved her from a gang of purist dark elves, and ever since, Axca swore herself to protect him. There isn’t much to say except that Axca swore total and utter loyalty to Lotor.

Zethrid had been in a back alley fighting ring, a much less fancy version of the Arena in the Capital. She was kept in a caged wagon like some sort of traveling black market circus animal, forced to fight enemies more savage and wild and monstrous than her. Lotor rescued her easily, slamming his blade against the lock, then paying off the men who immediately came running.

Ezor was raised in a whorehouse. As a halfbreed, barely anyone considered her worth their time, but the odd customer took a fancy to her blonde and colorful hair and her spotty eyes. But still, she didn’t bring in much money. So Ezor did the cleaning, the cooking, and the other odd jobs. And she was swift in the small thefts she performed, with cat-like grace and agility. Lotor had offered Ezor freedom from that place, and she’d eagerly taken it.

Narti was a young magician he discovered in a ruined village. The timbers still smoking, she told him straight out that they had hurt her. She warned them not to, and this was what happened when you drove a magician to the point of hysteria. She had been searching the remains for hours, but found nothing but ash. She seemed to feel guilty. Lotor offered her the chance to do some good, to repent. She accepted.

Now with his agents chosen, he began to set a plan in motion. To unleash Voltron, he would need the Harbinger. And what better way to spite his father than snatching the boy from under his nose?

Meeting the boy was strange. Lance was obviously distrustful of him at first, but a little extra honey in his words, and a few gentle touches seemed to ease his mind. Not only that, but Lance was actually quite smart, for someone who didn’t know he was being played. As time wore on, Lotor found himself dreading the moment when he would have to slit the boy’s soft skin over the Altar of Oriande.

But Lance was the Harbinger. The Harbinger has bled out on the Altar countless times before, dying for the Paladins, dying to save Altea. Dying unknown and unnamed, simply known as the Harbinger. Lance was going to die no matter what happened. In fact, he was supposed to die much sooner. All because the Lion Goddess’s blessing was more a curse than anything else, a rotten spell she cast on innocents that marked them to die. It wasn’t Lotor’s fault that Lance was doomed, and he was absolved of all guilt.

Even as Narti struck out, even as the other girls planned a mutiny when they thought he was asleep, even when they stood here, in the snow, and Ezor’s fingers tightened around the Harbinger’s arms.

“Give him here, Ezor,” Lotor ordered.

“Over our dead bodies,” Zethrid snapped, standing in front of Ezor and Lance.

Lotor frowned. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Axca.”

And immediately her bow was trained on Ezor. “Hand him over, girls.”

“Axca,” Ezor squeaked.

“I thought we were on the same side,” Zethrid scowled. “We seemed to be on the same page that night.”

“I was assessing your loyalties. Lotor gave me a home when I had none. Unlike some people, I repay my debts in full,” Axca said. “Hand the boy over and we don’t need to go down this road.”

“Just do it,” Lance sighed. “Just get it over with. No more of this song and dance, please.”

“I can handle her,” Zethrid scoffed, turning to face Axca. The smaller woman turned her bow onto Zethrid.

“Before you reach me, I can put my arrow into your skull by way of your left eye,” Axca growled.

“If you haven’t yet, you aren’t going to,” Zethrid snarled, and she charged. Axca loosed her arrow, but it went over Zethrid’s head. Ezor took off, Lance in tow. With a sigh, Lotor went after them.

They were around the bend of some large rocks when Ezor glared at Lotor and raised a dagger to Lance’s neck, holding him in front of her. “If you take one more step, I’ll kill him, right here! Where you can’t use his blood to open up the gate!”

Lotor took in Ezor’s desperate expression, Lance’s sudden panic, the way the dagger was held in a shaking grip, far enough away from the boy’s neck that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He smirked. “You wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Fuck you!” Ezor snapped. “I’ve killed before!”

“But you’ve never been attached to what you kill,” Lotor hummed thoughtfully. “When I was a far younger man, a couple of decades ago, my father gave me a village so I might prove my worth. I loved that village. My father slaughtered its people before my very eyes.”

Ezor looked frantically for a way out. Lotor continued. “Life is fleeting, Ezor. People die, old and young. The only thing that is forever is suffering.”

“Wrong,” Lance muttered. Lotor raised a brow.

“Excuse me?” Lotor demanded.

“Suffering can cease as well. Everything fades, everything dies. Even pain,” Lance argued. He blinked, and smiled. “Especially pain.”

How could he smile? On his way to his deathbed, to the end of his life, still he smiled like the world could do him no wrong. The eyes were hurt, blue pools like shattered glass, but the smile was still genuine. Genuine and warm and- Lotor chuckled. “You know, Love, I truly do care for you. It’s a shame this is how we must part.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you care for me, Lotor. I see what kind of man you are. You’ve given up.”

“Oh? And you haven’t?”

“Of course I have. We’ve both lost this fight, Lotor.”

And still, he smiled. Hopeful, and golden, and yet so viscerally painful. That smile was like the sun, brilliant and bright and burning. Lotor could feel it to his core, the way its sweet warmth tore at him.

“Or maybe just you did.”

From the rock Ezor was pressed against, snow exploded as a brilliantly colored red lioness leapt into the air, and toppled Lotor into the snow below, her rider a young man with a fierce stare and a violet blade.


	29. Vengeance, Misery, Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Coran's perspective for some setup! Keith gets thrown around a bit and then hears something he didn't think he'd ever needed to hear. Pidge fights some of Lotor's agents, and then she runs to the Harbinger's aide. Hunk tries to help, but he's just a bit too late- or is he? Lance is happy in his final moments.
> 
> Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on Twitter now @nutellarivram so yeah! Say hi? I dunno.

Allura and Shiro were both reasonably upset when they realized they would have to lead the armies to the battlefront, rather than join the other Paladins in a rush up Mount Aether. After all, Allura was a princess, and Shiro was the Black Paladin. They were important leaders, and had to be available for the big decisions the armies would need to make.

Keith promised to get in a few good hits on Shiro’s behalf, and Pidge said she’d cut the royal bastard open in Allura’s name. Shiro had laughed good naturedly, but Allura had been a little apprehensive. Perhaps because her honor would be gained with blood in the hypothetical promise.

Coran was trailing behind the armies at this point, wondering if when the three colorful lions had bounded into flight he should have followed them up the mountain. It was only a few minutes ago… feasibly, he could turn his horse and give chase- he’d get there with the amulet soon enough, hopefully.

With a final glance to where Allura and Shiro were chatting a bit anxiously deeper in the ranks, Coran made his decision. He had promised to keep the Harbinger alive. He had the Dragon Amulet. He had to be there.

Coran spurred his horse to action, turning her in a sharp arc and quickly leading her back to Mount Aether. He prayed quietly to Teladuv, the god of travel, of fate and coincidence, of transport. It couldn’t be just his imagination that his steed began to run faster.

* * *

 

Keith did not think his actions through completely when he urged Red to jump on top of the Galra prince. He had no time to, in his mind, what with both the prince and his opponent ready to kill the Harbinger -Lance McClain, right?- at any point in time. He was just considering how best to capture the prince without killing him -Allura had explicitly asked them to capture him, after all- when the full weight of a barbarian of a woman came crashing into his side with a roar.

Keith skidded in the snow, and looked to Red in alarm. She and the largest of the dark elves were wrestling to the ground.  _ Get the prince! I can handle myself! _

Keith didn’t bother answering. Red knew what he was going to do. He ran forward to stop the prince, but the man gripped Lance by his bicep, and Keith froze. The prince glared warily at Keith as he pulled away, his blade ready to strike at anyone, and the Habringer struggling to stand or open his eyes or- what was happening with Lance?

“Let him go!” Keith shouted. Maybe the prince had even a shred of goodwill in him. “Things don’t have to happen this way!”

“Ah, but they do,” The prince argued. “It’s a cycle, don’t you understand that yet? The goddess gets locked up after a few weeks, the wicked begin to repopulate Altea, the Harbinger is born, and the Paladins are chosen. It happens again, and again, and each time, the Harbinger dies either of the goddess’s power, or upon the Altar at the hands of the Paladins themselves.”

“We don’t need Voltron!” Keith argued. “The portal doesn’t need to open!”

Lotor laughed at that, as if Keith were a child with fanciful ideas that could never be. Lance’s eyes cracked open, blearily looking at the battle just a few meters down the slope of the mountain. Then they squeezed shut again and he moaned in pain. In the moment of Keith’s distracted concern, an arrow flew through the air, piercing his shoulder.

With a shout, he turned onto the shooter with a dirty glare. The woman only glared back, and he leapt at her with his blade out. She twirled out of his reach and kicked at his wrist, the blade skittering across the snow.

Out of many other options, Keith grappled her to the ground by the waist, quickly slamming her into the snow. He tried to wrestle her bow out of her grip, but her knee quickly came up and slammed into his chin.

Keith curled in on himself in the snow, his head ringing for a few minutes. After a moment, the ringing subsided a bit, and he stood up to face the archer again. Her bow was aimed at Hunk and Yellow, and he wasn’t going to let her get in a good shot. He grabbed her wrist as she reached to draw back the drawstring. “No.”

“No?” The woman scowled.

“You don’t get to do this,” Keith snapped. “None of you get to-”

And the sky tore open, white light streaming through the rip in its fabric, heralded by soft, sweet music that seemed to roar in Keith’s ears.

Images jumped before his eyes, of a life he could’ve had, of a life he didn’t have. A happy family, Krolia and his father, together, with him. The singing was soft and sweet, but even so it was all he could hear in this moment in this section, as all around him he heard the Lion Goddess sing to him.

The visions faded, but the song did not, paralyzing Keith even as he saw the towering dragon breathing white flames into the sky, even as an orange stream of light floated through the air, even as the Lion Goddess herself appeared before them, even as Hunk came to his side.

“Keith? Buddy?” Hunk asked, his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“You can’t hear it? The singing?” Keith asked. Hunk didn’t seem to hear it as his face screwed up in concentration. Keith wiped at his face to get rid of the tears. “It’s an apology.”

 

_ The trials you have suffered, the world that you have seen, it’s darkness has consumed you, from all where you have been. Your soul by now feels heavy, your heart I cannot mend, but so you know I’m sorry, this sweet sweet song I send. This shadow is my doing, for I abandoned men, had I stayed at your side, this couldn’t happen then. _

* * *

 

When Keith leapt onto the prince, Pidge had jumped into battle against the archer she could see from her vantage point. The woman had shrieked in surprise as Pidge cast her illusion spell, her form splitting into sixteen of herself. The larger dark elf had spotted something, and immediately charged out of Pidge’s reach. But the smaller was fair game.

Then a third leapt into battle, and the archer called out, “Ezor!? I thought you were against Lotor!”

“You’re my friend!” The other announced, and swung her blade through two of Pidge’s forms. “I’ve always got your back!”

In a flash, the blade in Ezor’s hand flew through the air and buried itself into the chainmail between her vambrace and rerebrace, the blade brushing against the flesh of her inner elbow. The broken links of the chainmail dug into her skin, and Pidge cursed. Her illusions flickered for a moment.

“There you are,” Ezor grinned, and she jumped at Pidge. With a quick mental nudge, her illusions ran at Ezor, their daggers sizzling with electric magic. In a flurry of blades and fists, Pidge lost sight of the archer.

“Why are you fighting us?” Pidge grunted, blocking a strike with the plating of her left vambrace. “If you’re against Lotor, help us!”

“I might be against him, but I won’t let you guys capture him! Lotor will meet justice  _ our way _ or no way,” Ezor snarled.

Pidge muttered a spell and a wave of force pushed Ezor across the snow, her body leaving a trail as she slid through it. Pidge took a few breaths to steady herself and readied for another attack. Then the sky ripped itself open.

White light flooded the air, unintelligible song announcing it’s glow. And stepping free of the bright white came the colorful beast, Voltron. Roaring and yelling and gathering attention, no one but Pidge noticed the figure crawling through the snow, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

The Harbinger reached a rather steep drop before he began to tumble down. Fear seizing her heart, Pidge ran towards hi, Green mesmerized by some roiling anger Pidge could feel in her gut.

For a moment, as Pidge ran towards the ledge the Harbinger had fallen down, she felt a warm sense of calm conflicting against her fear. She searched the ledge for the Harbinger, snow beginning to fall just as she saw him.

He had big, blue eyes, and he stared up at the sky as if he was ready to die, and as the calm feeling faded, her fear spiked yet again. She bounded down the steep drop to the Harbinger’s side, landing hard on her knees by his side.

“Wake up! Don’t close your eyes!” Pidge shouted, pushing her hands against the stab wound in the boy’s gut, trying to keep the blood from leaving. She could feel wet, sticky heat under her knees.

A spark of dull recognition flickered in his eyes. He tried to speak, but all that came up were gross gurgling noises as blood bubbled up between his lips.

“He’s not gonna make it!” Pidge exclaimed, as she noticed Hunk joining her by the Harbinger’s side.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,”Hunk decided. Hunk’s eyes turned turquoise, and Pidge felt hope rise up in her chest. She looked down at the Harbinger, who was smiling, his teeth stained with his own blood.

He had to live. He had to _ live _ .

* * *

 

Hunk hated the strategy they’d chosen, but he was the only one of the three of them who knew healing magic. They couldn't afford for him to run out of energy, and thus he was on the sidelines, watching from behind some rocks as the confusing scene played out.

Keith and Red leapt at the biggest threat, the Imperial prince. Then, Pidge and Green leapt into battle against the archer and the large woman. When they were in danger, the wiry dark elf leapt to their defense, and when the large woman noticed Red atop Lotor, she grappled the lioness to the ground.

“Yellow,” Hunk said urgently, as Keith sprawled in the snow and Yellow nodded, leaping into the battlefield. A barrage of arrows began to hail down on Yellow, and Hunk panicked. The lion was unharmed, but decided to hang back to protect his master. When the arrows stopped coming, Hunk surveyed the field, then noticed that the prince had slipped away. Dammit!

The prince had toted a dazed looking boy up the slope to a wide stone flat, miraculously clear of snow, and meticulously clean. The Altar! Hunk had to do something! Quickly, he scrambled to make his way up the mountain, Yellow jumping in his path to defend him from arrows, and at one point an actual dagger.

Unfortunately, Hunk was still several feet away when the sky tore open, white light blinding him and the sounds of millions of voices singing in harmony smashing into his ears.

“ _ I awaken to feel the rage of my children! I awaken to feel the pain of my people! The suffering of humanity! _ ” It was an old tongue, a language long forgotten, but somehow Hunk could understand. “ _ I am summoned to bring the end of pain, the end of rage, the end of All! _ ”

Holy Balmera, they were all going to die here.

“ _I AM VENGEANCE AND I AM MISERY!_ _I AM VOLTRON!_ ”

And with that the mighty beast roared, raising its head into the sky and unleashing a torrent of white flames into the air. Large colorful wings spread out to both sides, and large blackened talons dug into the snow. The lions roared, lifting their heads to the sky. When Hunk looked to Yellow, his eyes had turned violent and angry. He could feel Yellow’s anger, feel his rage.

But then there was a light. Orange, a color that was unaffiliated with the Paladins, but one that emanated the same warmth and comfort. A line of orange light, streaming from the base of the mountain, carrying with it a prayer of hope. Whispers Hunk couldn’t make out peeled off the light, filling his heart with calm and warmth.

And the anger began to ebb, the churning in Hunk’s gut faded, the dragon began to transform, and standing upon the platform was a beautiful woman with flowing silver hair, a black lion pelt around her neck, and lovely blue eyes. She floated above the Altar in silence for a long moment and then smiled. “I recognize that voice. Oh, Coran always did know how to talk me down.”

“Lion Goddess?” Hunk called. The woman laid eyes on him and smiled even sweeter.

“My Paladins! You have fit well into your roles,” The Lion Goddess murmured. Then she turned to the Imperial prince, who was staring wide eyed at her, his jaw hanging open. “We need to talk.”

Then the Lion Goddess’s eyes glowed with brilliant turquoise light. The prince gasped and the same light appeared in his own eyes. Hunk turned to survey the battle below, but it had long since ceased. Every single one of the people below, except for Pidge, were weeping andstaring openly at the tear in the sky. Hunk hurried to Keith’s side.

“Keith? Buddy?” Hunk prompted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“You can’t hear it? The singing?” Keith asked. Hunk listened to the unintelligible song, but didn’t understand what the other meant. Keith sniffled, quickly snatching at the tears on his face. “It’s an apology.”

Hunk still didn’t understand, even as the three dark elf women hugged each other, sobbing. Something soft landed on his nose. He looked up to the sky, realizing that it was snowing now.

Then he heard Pidge screaming, “-don’t close your eyes!”

Immediately, Hunk’s attention swerved to the younger Paladin, and he saw her several paces down the mountainside, her hands putting pressure on a bubbling wound, and blue eyes looking at her in a haze.

“He’s not gonna make it!” Pidge screeched.

Hunk felt a surge of determination in his gut, felt power tingle in his fingertips. He ran to her side, kneeling on the other side of the dying soul they’d come to save. He promised Marco he’d bring him his baby brother. “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

Then he buried his hands in the wound and his vision went turquoise.

* * *

 

The blade in Ezor’s hand sliced across Lance’s collarbone, a shallow cut, already beading as he scrambled away from her in the snow. His blood was rushing in his ears- or was that the forest and the earthquake and the flames that were eating away at his mind as the three lions made their appearances around him? He could barely think, he couldn’t hear, there was-

Someone was yelling at someone else, people were fighting, Lance was being grabbed with bony fingers around the bicep, he was being dragged through cold snow. His eyes were squeezed shut against the noise, and when he opened them, he saw sights that made no sense. Ezor was fighting a small green figure? Multiple of them? Zethrid was wrestling a lion? What was going on? How could they be fighting the Paladins? The yellow one ducked behind some stones as an arrow flew at him, and his lion jumped to his defense. The world was too bright, too nonsensical, and the fires, the leaves, the rocks, were all too loud! Lance’s vision was overtaken- so much color, so much- white, there was too much white, good gods above, what was that noise!?

It was so loud, it was so much  _ everything _ \- then it was nothing for a blissful second. And then Lance’s body throbbed, and there was a tight grip on his shoulders, a smooth surface beneath his knees, and something had been slipped through his stomach.

Blue eyes shot open, staring up at the violet face and silver eyes of his murderer. Lotor’s face was blank. Lance’s mouth fell open, and he tried to say something, but words wouldn’t come. A surprised sort of squawk left his throat. Lotor’s stony expression cracked, and there was misery in his eyes, agony in the twist of his lips. Lance brushed the man’s face with his fingertips.

“It’s okay,” Lance whispered, finally finding his words from somewhere in his mind. “It’s okay.”

“I always did wish the hardest for that which I knew I couldn’t keep,” Lotor murmured. Then, with one fluid jerk, the knife slid from Lance’s stomach and he doubled over onto smooth, untouched marble. He could feel blood drip onto the stone, he could hear people screaming for him, he could see Lotor’s slow steps as he went backwards. Lance looked to his fingers. Turquoise light was illuminating each vein, each artery.

Lance collapsed and turned onto his back to examine the sudden rip in the fabric of the world. White light poured out from it, a warm and comforting light, like the sensation he got from each of the lions in his head. As blood leaked onto the stone beneath him, though, he couldn’t hear them anymore. The crackling fire, the rustling leaves, it was all gone as his fingers numbed, as his head swam.

From within the tear, Lance heard rage and fury. Anger, vengeance. He could feel it filling him up and tearing through him. He had to get off the stone or whatever was preparing to escape would crush him upon its exit. With a tremendous effort, Lance flipped himself back onto his stomach, his hands reaching for the edge of the stone and curling weakly around it.

He pulled. He pulled. One hand, then another. Right, left, right, left. He couldn’t hear anything above a strange ringing in his own ears, couldn’t see much except the light snow beginning to fall. He rolled down a surprisingly steep slope suddenly, landing on his back at the base of it, and then he noticed.

He stared at the sky, blanketed by dark clouds, snow falling on his lashes and cheeks. He tried to stand, but he couldn’t. His legs would not move. Something war, -his blood, his godsdamned blood- spread beneath him, and the snow chilled his back. He remembered this, this was the vision, this was his death. His final moments. Thank the gods, there would be relief from all this pain and cold soon.

But at the same time… the Paladins had been so close to him. So near. And Ezor and Zethrid had thrown away their loyalty to Lotor for him. But Lotor- he’d loved Lotor, he was certain. And Lotor insisted that he’d loved him. But then why- how- he was the one to make the killing wound. And above all else, the lions were gone. The warmth in his chest, gone. The Lion Goddess had abandoned him and left him to die, hadn’t she?

Snow was filling his eyelashes, starting to fall into his eyes. Lance was so, so cold.

“-ake up! Don’t close your eyes!” Snow kissed skin, amber eyes. Brown hair falling like a curtain between them and the sky. So beautiful… he knew this person. He knew them, he just had to think- Green. That’s right, green. He tried to speak her name, but the word didn’t come, instead replaced with a hideous gurgling as blood came up from between his lips.

“He’s not gonna make it!” Green screamed, and another presence landed beside them, dark skin, round features, brown waves of hair framing a pudgy face, he knew them too, they were yellow.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Yellow insisted. Lance smiled, a last warmth filling his chest. They were trying. They were trying. His paladins…

Then there was simply turquoise light. It filled all of Lance’s senses. No pain, no cold, no sadness. Then this was it, wasn’t it? Now he died.

* * *

 

_ Not yet. _


	30. Family Both Blood and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance won't die yet, he has a bright future ahead of him. The Lion Goddess reveals to Lotor that he cannot control destiny and his part is not as large as he hopes- Lotor refuses to think so. Coran reunites with the Lion Goddess, and the paladins have stabilized the Harbinger. Axca, Zethrid, and Ezor try to figure out what to do next. Krolia watches a family overjoyed, and works a bit on fixing her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this last week, but then I went on vacation to the mountains before posting it, oops! I'm back now, so here I am and here it is! Hope you like it.

_ Not. Yet. _

_ Surely you cannot believe this is where you die. Do you not know your own destiny? Your own path? Surely you know what an impact you hold upon the world? Surely you understand that you are supposed to achieve what no Harbinger before has ever managed? Why do you think you have already evaded death? Do you really believe you would cheat death at such a young age only to succumb to her now? _

_ Do you not remember your own story? _

_ You began life as a babe, screaming as they all do, but unlike any other babe, you were glowing. Turquoise light that announced your premature end. The prophecies attacked you all your life, random times they struck and boiled your blood, they weakened you until you could barely stand. _

_ This was when Haggar, Honerva’s shell, found you. She offered your parents your only chance, and your father accepted. Your mother was a harder sell, but eventually she gave in. Eventually, Haggar owned you, or so she believed. And while your experience with the witch was terrible, it was also what allowed you to survive what no other non-elven Harbinger had been able to survive before. _

_ You think after surviving that, you would die on the Altar? As if you were any other Harbinger? No. Not yet. You have a greater destiny. _

_ But for now, young cub… _

_ For now you rest. _

* * *

 

“This is a rather dreary place,” The glamorous being murmured, examining the dark bedroom. Lotor looked up from his childhood bed, glancing around the rather empty room. Not a single picture was on the walls, not like his real childhood bedroom, his illustrations plastered on the walls by nursemaids who simply adored them. No, it was similar to his bedroom as a child. But it was empty. The mask had fallen off. No more lying nursemaids.

“It’s how it should have been,” Lotor scoffed. The woman with flowing silver locks smiled emptily, sadly.

“No, Lotor. Your father was supposed to love you,” The woman murmured. “It’s rather unfortunate that Fate dictated he didn’t.”

“I don’t care about that,” Lotor scowled, looking at the place where there was supposed to be a large door leading to a patio. All that was there in this projection of it was more violet stone.

“This room speaks otherwise,” The woman murmured. “But enough of that unpleasantness. Lotor, tell me why you unlocked my rage and anger. You are aware that Voltron is summoned because the blood of my Chosen is spilt. There are other ways to open the gate to Oriande itself.”

“Voltron is the only thing that can bring about my father’s demise,” Lotor announced. “Only with Voltron can anyone win against his army.”

The Lion Goddess hummed softly, her kaleidoscopic eyes shifting from one blue to another. “Then you haven’t heeded the dreams.”

“What?” Lotor asked.

“Or he kept them from you,” The Lion Goddess mused. “The dreams, Prince Lotor, the dreams of darkness, of a plague that infects the ambitious, of Dark Quintessence.”

Lotor blinked. “ _ Dark _ Quintessence?”

“If there is light, there must be shadow,” The Lion Goddess explained. “After all, everything has a balance. Man and woman, none and all, fire and water, earth and sky; the scales  _ must _ remain level. Without Dark Quintessence, there cannot be life. And yet it seeks to devour all life, a mindless beast craving existence with every bite.”

She turned to him, her gaze piercing his very soul. “Without hope there can be no misery. This, my Chosen knows well. But you cannot grasp that the cycle cannot end until we return the balance.”

“Faldur was your son, a demigod of great power,” Lotor remembered. “He released the darkness and harnessed it for himself, tipping the scales in its favor.”

“Indeed.” The Lion Goddess stared sadly at the purple stones, as if they looked like something else to her, as if she was seeing something Lotor couldn’t.

“Then we need another demigod. The child of a god that is your opposite. To bring back the light,” Lotor surmised. He thought about the gate to Oriande. If Faldur unlocked some dark power from the land of the gods, did that mean that its counterpart still lay in hibernation within?

“You don’t need a demigod. You have the person you need, Lotor. You simply need to think about it,” The Lion Goddess replied. And slowly their surroundings began to melt away, returning the world to the snowy mountain peak where he was surrounded by signs of ended battle.

The Lion Goddess before them all gently landed on her feet, then stumbled. The Red Paladin hurried to her aide, three lions following him to her side. “I’m fine, cubs, no need to worry for me. I’m free.”

The lions rubbed their heads against her knees, and she laughed harmoniously. “Well, I’m certainly sick of those flowers. That’s all I ever see in there.”

Her gaze turned to the Red Paladin, who looked at her with wide, wet eyes. She smiled. “I’m sorry, child, that Fate’s course has been so rough for you.”

Lotor looked to the gate, the white light beckoning, calling. Somewhere within lay the one thing that could end it all. The whole damn fight. Yes, somewhere inside that portal was the very thing that could kill his father.

In a single sprinting bound, Lotor leapt into the light-

He vanished.

* * *

 

Coran had felt the magic of the Amulet working even from this distance. He knew that, as Voltron’s power faded out of his grasp, he had succeeded in calming the Lion Goddess’s rage. A rage that could only be unlocked if the Harbinger had bled upon the Altar. He stood beside his steed anxiously, the poor old horse picking up on his worry and getting antsy himself.

Then, just up the path, through the trees, Coran saw a sight he never thought he’d see again. Flowing silver hair, brilliant crystalline eyes, and a sweet, sad smile. “Coran! You look ancient!”

“And it’s almost as if a day never passed for you, dear lady,” Coran bowed deeply. He offered her the colorful orb wrapped in metal. “I believe this is yours.”

“Ah, of course. What better place to hide the Amulet than within the hands of his most trusted advisor? I should have simply cut out the middleman and given it to you myself,” Sada chuckled. She accepted the colorful stone for a moment, before offering it back to him.

“Where are the Paladins?” Coran asked, peeking around the Goddess to look for them.

“Just a bit behind on the path here,” Sada assured. “Safe and alive, all of them. The Harbinger included.”

“Thank the gods.” Coran sighed in relief.

“You’re welcome,” The goddess smirked. “But it had naught to do with me, and much to do with your Yellow Paladin. A brave boy, he could have died healing a wound of such severity.”

Coran worried his mustache. “Is he alright?”

“A little faint. A little rest and he’ll be fine. The little one, the Green Paladin, delivered a message to the others with her darling little stone,” Sada hummed. “They’re very young.”

“You chose them,” Coran commented.

“The  _ Lions  _ chose them. While I trust their judgement, this is too young to fight a war, Coran.” Sada looked pained. “I just wish there had been more time. Or more choice.”

“Coran!” Pidge’s young voice cut through their conversation. Coran looked up to see Keith and Pidge walking with Yellow down the smooth incline, two figures slumped over on the lion’s back. Red was seated on Keith’s shoulder. Green was perched on Yellow’s Head, her tail swishing carefully in front of his eyes, methodically pointing out slippery spots.

A closer look revealed the larger of the two figures to be a rather weak Hunk, with a much slighter, limper figure in his arms.

“Alright, so we’re all together now,” Keith grouched, as they reached Sada and Coran. “Now can you speed up the process and get us to the others?”

“Certainly,” Sada assured. “We need to get these boys to safety, after all.”

And the goddess raised her slim, dark fingers into the air and snapped. There was no flash, no noise, no smoke. One moment they were in a pine forest, at the base of the tallest mountain in Altea and Alterna combined, and the next, they were in the middle of a campsite, surrounded by rebels ready to go to battle.

Wasting no time, Coran shouted, “Someone fetch the Blue and Black Paladins! Tell the McClain family their son is safe!”

* * *

 

Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid sat in silence in the snow. Axca couldn’t believe that, after she was so loyal as to turn against the girls for him, Lotor had abandoned her to run into the light. At the first sign of his desertion, Zethrid and Ezor had run, dragging her with them. They didn’t want to be punished for his wrong-doings. Especially not after they’d defended them. Why did they defend them? Still, Axca was confused.

“Well, what do we do now?” Ezor asked.

“I guess we fight… everyone?” Zethrid shrugged. “All we have is each other. Even Lotor would throw us under the bus first chance he got.”

“To be fair, we did the same to him,” Ezor shrugged. Then she took a deep breath. “You guys heard that song too, right?”

“She apologized. I didn’t think there  _ were  _ any gods to apologize for my crappy life,” Zethrid mused.

“Why would you defend us from the Paladins? They were on your side,” Axca said, finally finding her voice.

Zethrid grunted. “I don’t like that Lotor killed that kid. But he got me out of that off brand arena circuit, and I pay back my debts, Axca. Just like you said. We owe him.”

“I don’t owe anyone shit,” Ezor scowled, and her hand curled around Axca’s. “But hell if I’m letting anyone hurt my sisters.”

“Sisters?” Zethrid huffed a small laugh. “I like it.”

“So, what? It’s three sisters against the world?” Axca smiled half heartedly. A light thump announced the presence of a fourth person, and all three girls whipped around, ready to attack.

Narti stood up, raising her hands in surrender. “Four.”

Ezor laughed happily, excited to see Narti again after so long. “Have you been following us?”

Narti shrugged one shoulder, Ezor laughing once again at the very idea. Axca smiled. Zethrid chuckled. “I think I like our chances better now.”

“Even If we’re on our own?” Axca asked.

“We’re sisters in arms!” Ezor announced, flexing her biceps proudly.

“If anyone wants to get at us, they have to get through our resident magician, and  _ me _ ,” Zethrid pounded one hand against her chest. Axca looked at the three companions standing before her.

A small smile spread across her face. “And they’ll have to get past me. The archer.”

“Well, gee, I feel left out!” Ezor grinned, tucking her thumbs in her belt loops to bring attention to her daggers. Zethrid chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“I  _ really _ like our chances, if it’s us against the world.”

* * *

 

When just before his departure, Keith had introduced the McClains to her, she hadn’t expected them to be so welcoming of her. All of them, except for Veronica, whose attitude made quite a bit of sense, had been rather warm. Even when Marco had asked how long she’d stayed with Keith, and she’d answered “less than a year,” Mrs. McClain only said, “That must have been so hard for you.”

It was a strange experience, being surrounded by so many… bleeding hearts wasn’t the term. Many of the McClain family kept their own emotions close to their chests, hidden from view. They weren’t bleeding hearts, but perhaps they were empathy of a sort. They kept most everything close to the chest, but they easily told Krolia about the days they spent with Keith. They easily shared what they believed she needed to hear- and they were right.

Having to learn about Keith felt wrong. Like an experience she shouldn’t have to have. But knowing he was so much like her, so independent, so honorable- knowing he was like that felt right. Of course he was that way, he was her son. Or his father’s son, his father was a far better man than many Krolia had met. A better person than she was, someone who would never purposefully leave his child.

They knew just what to say to comfort her, and she felt horribly out of her element when another member of the Swords of Gamara told them that the Paladins were returning from Mount Aether. As the armies began to set up camp, the McClains began to grow nervous, anxious. Luis flitted about helping people set up the different tents, Marco went out to grab firewood, despite there being plenty stored in the wagons. Veronica looked ready to bolt as soon as someone told her where her baby brother was. Mrs. McClain and her husband were talking in hushed voices. Emilio made himself busy helping cook rations for the evening, and Luz was awkwardly helping Rafael with the nieces and nephews.

Then, the very same Sword rushed up to them and announced that the Paladins were back and Lance was safe. Immediately the family began demanding to see him. Soon enough, people acquiesced, and Krolia was bustled toward a tent alongside the McClain family. Lying in a cot was the Yellow Paladin, the poor boy looking entirely drained. On the other side of the tent, however, was the object of the McClains’ worries.

The boy was thin and bony, with much too long hair. His clothes had been removed, leaving him in a pair of briefs and swathed in bandages just under his too-prominent rib cage. And while he had been put to rest in a cot, it seemed that the lions had made their home around him, as Blue had wriggled underneath his back and grown a bit to the proper size for comfort, and Red lay across his lap like a spoiled kitten. Green was curled up to his right side, and Yellow was sitting on top of his feet. Black was sitting vigilant, still in her manticore form, studying the family carefully. She nodded imperiously, and Mrs. McClain was the first to break from the family’s position hovering at the entrance to the tent.

“Ay, mijo,” Mrs. McClain murmured, one hand hovering over his bandages, the other pushing long curls out of his face. Tears began coming down the poor woman’s face as she studied her baby boy closely. “Ernesto! Look! He’s so handsome, now!”

That broke the hesitation in her children. Immediately they ran forward and began marveling over the sight of their long lost family. Krolia watched with a soft smile. Maybe she’d watch them greet him when he wakes. Just to. To see a happy family made whole again.

“Krolia?”

Krolia jumped, then whirled around to see Keith, a bowl of stew in hand. “Keith! I heard you were back. I’m glad you brought the McClain boy back safely.”

“We almost didn’t,” Keith said grimly. “Hunk passed out from the strain of healing him. Coran says he healed all the internal damage, but not the whole wound.”

“I see. Are you bringing this meal to your Yellow Paladin friend?” Krolia asked.

“Yeah,” Keith nodded. “I’d guess it’s really crowded in there, huh?”

“You’d be right,” Krolia chuckled. The two of them stood silently as a family rejoiced in the safety of their missing member inside the tent.

“I want to be able to see you as family,” Keith said after a few moments.

“I want to be seen as your family,” Krolia assured.

“But I’m not a child, and I’ve always been independent,” Keith continued.

“I understand.”

“There are things I’ll do that might seem dangerous, but I know what I’m doing. Trying to stop me won’t do anything,” Keith went on. “What I’m trying to say is, please don’t try to control me.”

“Keith, if ever you are going to do something dangerous, I don’t want to stop you. I want to help you,” Krolia decided. “You’re an adult now, and I can’t claim to know what’s best for you because I don’t know you. But I can help you. Just let me.”

Keith smiled awkwardly. “Okay… Mom.”

Krolia’s chest felt tight and her eyes stung a little. “You don’t have to call me that. I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“I want to. I want to see you as my mother, and not some random woman. You’re my mom. And- and I’ve never had one before,” Keith’s voice broke a little.

“D-do you want a hug?” Krolia stammered.

“Yes, please,” Keith pleaded, settling the bowl on a nearby plank rested atop two stools. As smoothly as she could, with all the concern and love she felt for this boy, her calf, Krolia scooped her  _ son _ into her arms.


	31. The Time Fast Approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura learns something about herself, but before she really has time to process it, her mother vanishes again. Veronica rejoices in the feeling that her family is whole again, but who knows how long this will last? Thace prepares for battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!! First I had writer's block for a REALLY LONG TIME, then season seven came out and I got scared for some reason to work on this, then I realized this chapter is totally almost done so I should just DO it already, and I realized I actually really love this story so I want to do right by it, but like!!!! My computer super glitched out on me!!! BUT, the problem is fixed now, and I am posting this now! Better late than never, huh?

While the other three paladins were away, Allura and Shiro had led the armies towards where they would begin the assault on the Empire. However, they had quickly hit a snag when Blue and Black suddenly began to roar in rage, and Allura had felt turbulent oceans crashing within her. Anger, and rage, and not only that- under her skin, she could feel unspeakable power. Once Blue and Black had settled, a camp had already been set up, and Allura was sitting within the war tent hugging herself as magic burned under her skin.

Shiro stepped into the tent quietly, pushing aside the cloth flap with his flesh arm, the one covered by iron armor. “Are you alright, Princess?”

“I will be. Has something happened? Am I needed?” Allura asked. Already, she was getting to her feet shakily, the power still making her lightheaded.

“I just came to let you know that the others were back. Just- keep off your feet Princess, while we figure this out,” Shiro suggested.

Allura shook her head. “I should check on the Harbinger. I promised the McClains-”

“Lance is fine,” Shiro assured, grabbing Allura by her biceps. Only then did she notice that she’d been tipping sideways. “His family is seeing to him now. And Keith is seeing to Hunk. Coran is with the Lion Goddess, and Pidge is with her brother. Everyone’s fine.”

“Good, good,” Allura sighed, her shoulder’s relaxing. Then she realized- “The Lion Goddess? The gate opened?”

“Well, it seems so,” Shiro chuckled. “But Hunk saved Lance before he bled out.”

“That’s- that’s good.” Allura nodded. It was more than good, but her head was beginning to hurt too much to think about that.

“You need to get your bearings, Allura. I don’t know what happened, or what’s going on, but maybe Coran will?” Shiro suggested. Allura shrugged as Shiro helped her back into a sitting position. She ducked her head between her knees as Shiro left the tent to go fetch her advisor. She wondered where Blue went for a brief moment, then decided to worry more about her pounding head. Blue could handle herself.

Allura’s fingers felt too small one moment and too large the next, her eyes ached as things grew blurry then clear over and over, and her head- oh gods her head.

A gentle hand rested on her hair and -as if someone had upturned a bucket of cold water over her head- Allura felt cool magic rush down her body, from the place the delicate hand rested, all the way down to her toes. Her vision sharpened and revealed to her that she was curled in on herself, staring at a woman’s sandalled toes. Allura jerked back, quickly getting to her feet.

The woman standing before her, with Coran and Shiro standing behind her, had flowing silver hair that seemed to dance and swirl in the air. Her eyes were a brilliant blue that shifted and warped in shade. Her skin was dark, and her features quite elven. And as she smiled, Allura’s blood ran cold. “Mother?”

“Wait-“ Shiro spluttered, and Coran shook his head.

Shiro looked bewildered as Coran took over explaining what was happening. “Allura, this is the Lion Goddess, Sada. She is indeed your mother, but your father did not entirely lie in the stories he told you. He simply recalled a few old legends that Sada assured him were true.”

“Oh my, did Alfor really tell her those stories?” The goddess laughed awkwardly.

“But- but how!?” Allura exclaimed.

“I am free of my prison for as long as the rains do not wash the Altar of my Chosen’s blood whenever I am summoned in such a fashion. At the time, it was plenty long enough for Alfor and I to fall in love,” Sada explained. “I’m afraid I did not expect that your powers would have remained dormant for as long as I was locked away.”

“What powers?” Shiro managed to ask, still gobsmacked at this new revelation.

“I… I’m a demigod?” Allura asked.

The Lion Goddess nodded, and Coran smiled proudly. Shiro looked at the group in absolute befuddlement. Allura dropped onto a stool nearby, staring into the air as she re-evaluated her entire self image. She had known she was destined for great things, as a princess, and as a Paladin, but never had she imagined that she was the blood of a god.

“Take as much time as you need to process,” Sada allowed. “I regret to say our reunion must wait anyhow. I have a prince to look for.”

“But my Lady,” Coran interjected. “If the blood is wiped from the Altar, will you go back to your prison?”

“For some reason, Coran, I feel as though, even if I do, I will be released again very soon. I think our new Paladins have… broken the cycle, as it were.” Sada smiled warmly, and aimed her next words to Allura, whose head snapped up as she heard them: “And I am very proud of all of them.”

And Allura watched as her  _ mother _ vanished in mid air, her brain buzzing with thoughts she couldn’t pin down.

* * *

 

Years ago, the McClain family had been so, so happy. When Lance was born, screaming in pain as turquoise light illuminated his veins, the family was both concerned and overjoyed. And as years passed, Lance grew strong- then he grew weak. And happiness was… a little harder to maintain. It was also terrifying that Lance would collapse in the fields, his eyes glowing, his veins bright with turquoise light, and cryptic words promising doom tumbling from his lips.

The other children didn’t understand in the beginning, not even Marco, the eldest. But slowly, they began to see that Lance couldn’t play for very long before getting tired. Lance couldn’t run through the meadows, or go fishing, or stay crouched over a muddy ravine for an hour documenting bugs. Lance couldn’t dance for too long, or stay up late enough to stargaze, or go on picnics. While they were on the road he had to stay in the wagon, nestled between barrels of food and the poles they used to set up their tents. When they found a place to stay for a bit, Mamá and Papá had to build the tent first before doing anything else so that Lance could rest on his rickety cot.

It was when he was five that Lance stopped being able to stand, let alone walk, without any aide. Some days he couldn’t lift his own arms, but there were days where he could sit up using his own meager strength.

At this time, many of his siblings, Ana, and Marco, and Luis, and Emilio, started to distance themselves from him. Ana started reading, and she was almost never found without her nose in a book. Marco busied himself with their aunt, learning how to cook. Luis ran around sketching and studying bugs, noting them down in his journal. Emilio followed Papá out to hunt almost every day, gone for a long while.

Veronica, though, stayed at her brother’s side. She showed him her dresses, and he loved the bright and beautiful colors. She danced for him in them, and Lance would laugh, or sometimes he’d spasm and glow and Mamá would kick Veronica out. Veronica made him wreaths made from daisies, or roses, or violets, and he wore them joyfully. She played-pretend that he was a mystical forest prince, and Lance loved it. Sometimes she said something, and Lance’s eyes would turn turquoise, and Mamá would bustle her out of the tent.  Veronica had, once or twice, snuck an animal into Lance’s tent, much to his delight, and much to Mamá’s horror. That had resulted in quite the commotion.

Then came the day that changed… well, everything. Haggar found them, and demanded they hand over Lance. None of the children were awake. It was nighttime. The family was supposed to be leaving for a new settlement soon.

Emperor Zarkon was supposed to have been a good man in the eyes of his people. But he had not tried hard enough to pull the wool over their eyes, and he let things like what happened on this evening happen all across his kingdom, running unchecked. Haggar, as mentioned, demanded the boy.

Esperanza McClain was a reasonable woman. She’d argued with her husband against alliterating all their children’s names, but settled for one: Emilio. She’d taken care to make sure none of her children was subjected to the full horror of Lance’s curse. She’d bargained with Veronica to release any wild animals rather than adopting them as her own in exchange for her own mule. Esperanza was a reasonable woman.

As such, she exploded at the very idea that she would sell her son to a witch like Haggar. However, her husband was also a reasonable man. He understood that life and death were rather dangerous things to forget about, and he understood that his son was dying. There was nothing  _ they _ could do for him, but Haggar was a witch. She had to have some magic that could save him.

By this point, the other children were roused, alongside their aunt, and their grandparents. Veronica hoped against hope that her mother would continue to refuse, but eventually… eventually Mamá succumbed to her husband’s way of thinking. What did it matter if they never saw him again if they could always know he’d be alive?

Veronica had never hated her mother more than she did in this moment, at this betrayal, as dark rage filled her from within. She tried to run after the carriage that Haggar’s apprentices had loaded Lance into, but her aunt scooped her off the floor. She could do nothing but weep as the witch drove off with her brother.

So yes, Haggar had taken the boy. However, then she came after them, though for what reason they did not know. They ran, and ran, until eventually they had breached the mountain pass and entered Alterna. There, the McClains became involved in a revolution, years long in the making. It was then that the family became the fighters they were today. And it was years after that they returned to Altea to aid the rebel forces there, and that was when they met Kuro. Or rather, Keith. And that led them here.

That led Veronica to this day. Led her to standing over her brother, pushing back his curls, staring at his soft face. Led her near to tears. Led her to sitting around a campfire with her family, planning for when their Lance woke up. Led her to laughter and tears and excitement. She was so, so relieved.

But for how long?

* * *

 

Thace watched Haggar warily as she paced. He had gotten word from the Blade that they were preparing for battle, and to hold his position until the fighting broke out. He and any other Blade members within the Imperial ranks should soon be able to make their moves against the tyrant. However, that also meant he had to be especially cautious until then.

Haggar snarled, and came to a sudden stop. “Macidus, to me.”

One of her druids glided to her from his position by the door. He stood at attention at her side, awaiting her orders. His hood and mask hid him from view, and his robes swamped his figure and kept it indecipherable. “Lady Haggar.”

“The sky above the mountains has torn. The gates to Oriande are open,” Haggar said, and she pointed at the white lights dancing along the horizon to the north. “The Harbinger is dead. Voltron is released.”

“It seems so, my Lady,” Macidus said. “What of it?”

“With Voltron at their side, the Paladins will make their move. We must meet them head on- they and their allies will not take us by surprise,” Haggar decided.

Macidus bowed. “I will inform the other druids.”

As the Druid made his way out of the room, the other followed him out, and Haggar turned her attention to the generals and their lieutenants. “Prepare your men. We are at war.”

As Haggar swept out of the room, Prorok rested his heavy hand on Thace’s shoulder. “We will be likely be fighting the Blade, your mate among them.”

Thace’s chest ached at his own words as he said, “I have already said I do not harbor any feelings for the man who has betrayed me.”

“I see,” Prorok hummed. “It is time for us to gather the troops.”

Dutifully, Thace followed Prorok out the door as he prepared for an anxious wait- soon, soon he could reveal his true intentions. Soon, he would no longer betray his true feelings in order to keep his cover.

Soon, things would be in their favor, and the Empire will begin to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this chapter's very long, by my usual standards, or very short. But if it's shorter than usual, sorry! This is sort of a transition period in the story, and I'm not good at that stuff.


	32. A Strategic Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk wakes up and Keith is a sweetheart. The rebellion has dawdled long enough. The war council begins to strategize for fighting against a larger force, just in case they lose the aide of the Lion Goddess. A strange conversation takes place within the mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, wow, this took forever for me to figure out how to write! I thought about a lot of different ways this chapter could go down, but after writing it, I can't remember any of the others, lol. This was probably the best option anyway!

Hunk woke up a few hours later. When he woke, Allura and Shiro were both in a meeting with Slav, Sven, Kolivan, and Olia. Pidge had gone off with her brother to talk more and babble about magic theory. Keith was sitting by his bedside though, their lions curled together on the floor, at the base of a second cot.

“He wake up yet?” Hunk mumbled. Keith jerked to attention, fumbling with his knife for a moment.

“Hunk! You’re okay?” Keith asked, his hands hovering over Hunk like he wanted to touch him, but didn’t know if it’d be welcome. Hunk smiled, and grabbed one of Keith’s hands in his own.

“I’m fine, Keith. Thanks for waiting up for me,” Hunk said.

“I just. Mom, uh, Krolia, was in a wa council meeting, Pidge was with Matt. I thought someone should be here. In case you woke up, I didn’t want that to be… alone,” Keith shrugged. He just stared at where Hunk’s darker, larger fingers held his own, not daring to meet the other’s eyes.

Hunk laughed, deciding to focus less on the ache in his chest, and more on the people who  _ were _ here. “You’re so sweet, Keith. It’s surprising, in the good way.”

“I am not  _ sweet _ ,” Keith protested loudly, looking scandalized. Hunk grinned even wider.

“Yeah you are,” Hunk insisted. “You’re practically sweating syrup, Keith, that’s how sweet you are.”

“No.” Keith shook his head violently, rejecting the words.

“Sweet like sugar!” Hunk teased.

“ _ Gods _ no!”

“It’s okay, Sugarplum, your secret’s safe with me,” Hunk announced with a soft smile.

“That is not a name I will ever respond to,” Keith denied, his cheeks red. Hunk’s attention shifted back to the other inhabitant in the room.

“So, has he woken up yet?” Hunk asked, gesturing.

“Lance? No. His family’s come by a few times, but it’s only been a few hours. Coran said he probably won’t wake up until tomorrow, perhaps longer,” Keith explained. Hunk nodded.

“Are we moving out before he wakes, or after?” Hunk asked.

“That’s what the leaders are meeting for,” Keith answered. “Lance might be kind of a special case, but the army can’t just tote around an unconscious body, you know?”

Hunk squeezed Keith’s hand. “I know. But we also can’t just abandon him anywhere.”

“But neither can we spare anyone to stay somewhere with him,” Keith said.

“And we’re a large group. I’d be surprised if no Imperials had seen us yet,” Hunk added.

Keith nodded. “Yeah, so. Staying in one place for much longer isn’t an option either.”

“But he’ll wake up soon, I’m sure,” Hunk said. “So it’s all a moot point.”

“Right,” Keith nodded. He side eyed Hunk for a bit, and Hunk realized that Keith’s eyes were almost red in the shade like this. How they hadn’t guessed he were half dark elf was beyond him. “So… you’re definitely okay?”

Hunk smiled. “I’m okay, Sugarplum.”

“Stop! I am the furthest thing from sweet that there could possibly be, I’m not kidding!” Keith insisted.

“Sounds like lies,” Hunk decided, swinging his legs over the side of the cot to set them on the ground. He started to get to his feet.

“Whoa, what’re you doing?” Keith demanded, standing up just as  Hunk began to wobble on his feet.

“I haven’t eaten since before I expelled all my magical energy bringing someone back from the brink of  _ death _ . I’m starving,” Hunk explained, trying not to lean into Keith’s hold too much. He hoped he was still mostly standing under his own power.

“Whatever it is, I can get it for you,” Keith offered. “You were just passed out, Hunk. Take it easy.”

“We were just talking about how we don’t have much time left to be sitting around, Keith. I just need a meal, and I’ll be good to go,” Hunk assured. Keith pursed his lips.

“Alright.”

* * *

 

“We have the five paladins of Voltron, a demigod, and a goddess on our side,” Olia snorted, waving one hand at the map, where the violet pieces representing the Galra were far more numerous than their own mismatched pieces. “Three armies against one is already good odds, in my book.”

“So it seems,” Slav agreed. “But our numbers are still less. There aren’t many Blades, and your corresponding rebel factions are few.”

“Did you miss the part where Voltron is at our backs?” Sven asked, heavily accented words bringing a sense of levity and surety to the table.

“Is she? Princess Allura has already told us that the rains might lock her away again before the battle. Besides, the lions cannot do everything if we should fail to do our part,” Kolivan spoke up. “My Blades have been thinning ever since Zarkon’s witch got ahold of the Harbinger over a decade ago, and the rains could come any day now. We do not have time to dally.”

“Not to mention we aren’t very well hidden,” Krolia spoke up.

“The Galra will find us if we stay any longer,” Veronica agreed, sighing. “We need to move the armies, and if we do that, we may as well begin our assault.”

Finally, Allura spoke up, “It’s true we are few in number. We could use all the allies we can collect. We could call for civilian volunteers, perhaps. The lions have, admittedly, already made their mark on Altea in the recent weeks.”

“Terra has a small militia,” Shiro suggested. “And Pidge has informed me that their workforce only expanded when Prince Matthew and I were captured, just as the wall was reinforced.”

“The dryads might wish to aide us,” Olia piped up. “They helped Matt and another of my agents before.”

“They have also helped us,” Allura mused.

“Then what of the Balmeran trolls? I heard you fought the Galra with them by your side as well,” Sven said, recalling information one of his scouts had told him of the situation here in Altea.

“Keith told me he rescued some grateful Arusian tribespeople who might be willing to help,” Krolia said.

“Slav, what do you see? Would requesting help from these people help our odds?” Allura asked. Then she blinked and added, “Or is your vision still blocked?”

“My vision has cleared,” Slav reassured. “With this choice before us, I think it would be best if we sought aide. These people can help us, I can see it.”

Allura nodded. “Very well. We will send recruiters to each of these places- would it be best to send the prince to Terra, or a representative with word from him?”

“That depends on whether you think you can spare the Black Paladin for a few days, as the prince’s knight, or if you need me on hand during this time,” Shiro spoke up.

Allura pursed her lips, studying the maple leaf carefully painted above the large Voltron ‘V’ on his chest, centered right in the dip of the older crest. A symbol that meant that duty was placed above his duty as a paladin. But she understood- her own father’s Black Paladin had worn the crest of her father above his paladin crest. A duty that had been given to him, then thrown to the dust. Shiro was surely a far nobler man than Zarkon. Allura could not imagine him betraying Matt as Zarkon had her father. Finally she said, “Go, but be quick, and return safe. Take Black with you.”

“Of course,” Shiro smiled easily, his flesh and blood hand resting on the white spot between Black’s eyes. Allura met his gaze and nodded. She wanted to show him she had faith in him. Shiro nodded back. He understood.

* * *

 

_ Do you understand now, young cub? Why you cannot die yet? Why you must continue onwards? _

Shadows, everywhere, dark and tumultuous and growing- always growing! He could barely see, could barely breath, everything was black black black- but not in the good way, not in the safe way. So much fuschia light, spilling everywhere, glowing! It was so frightening, the way darkness folded in on itself, became purple pinpricks of light, then folded back out into blackness. It was dizzying, it was sobering, it was horrifying, and awe-inspiring.

_ Do you see, little cub? Do you see the world off kilter? Do you see the lack of balance? Do you see the unending chaos? _

Yes,  _ yes _ , he could see it! Make it stop, make it end!

_ You are the key, young cub. _

Why him? He’s nothing, just worthless and useless, he can’t even remember a few dumb visions on his own, absolute garbage waste of space and time-

_ No. NO. You are pure and untainted. The witch tried to taint your mind but it could not be so. You know the necessity of balance, and you are my cub. _

A paladin?

_ No, not a paladin. _

Then what? What was so special about him, what was so great? He had no skills, no talents. He was nothing.

_ You are a protector of the purest kind! A fierce and loyal friend! You are  _ mine _! _

But what does that mean? What does it mean to be yours?

_ You are my archangel, the arrow I will loose. _

_ You are Lance McClain. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is almost a year old. Just fourteen more days, wow. Super cool! Well, I hope I can get the next chapter out on the birthday of this fic, but we'll just have to wait and see. It frustrates me when I can't write this as fast as I want to.


	33. Rejoice, We Are Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wakes up. I'm sure you know what happens next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's talk about Keith having done self harm in the past, and I think I should tag that, right? I'm going to tag that.
> 
> Also, this fic is a year old as of today! Say happy birthday to IDoH! I can't believe this started as an off-the-cuff, unplotted story that was supposed to be less than fifteen chapters! It seems impossible now that I could ever have thought it'd be so short. Lol, I'm talking too much, enjoy the chapter! It's a scene I've been waiting since the beginning to write.

It was a good morning. Hunk was obviously feeling better, actually standing on his feet steadily and calmly, standing over a table set up outside the medic’s tent, under a sunshade. Shiro was preparing to leave after lunch, but he still had breakfast to focus on right now, so he and Keith were seated on a bench and chatting away about… whatever it was people with such an intense pseudo familiar bond talked about. Was it the same sort of things that Allura used to talk to her father about? That she talked to Coran about?

Yellow was perched in his house cat form just at the edge of the wooden board Hunk was using as a table, settled on two tall stools like all the dismantlable furniture the camp had set up when they stopped here. Black and Red were both curled up with their paladins. Even Green was perched on Pidge’s shoulders as the girl muttered incantations over the tiny bird she lovingly dubbed Rover.

Allura sighed, studying her hands. Coran had explained what little he could about what had happened to her, but he really didn’t know that much. He told her that the shapeshifting was part of her ability as a demigod, and shehad other abilities as well, but he didn’t know what they were, or how they would manifest. “Pidge…”

“Huh?” Pidge looked up, and Green used her head as a footstool to jump to the table with.She sat beside Green, and the two studied Hunk’s methodical movements as he chopped the carrot in his hands.

“You’ve studied magic, right? For a long time now,” Allura asked.

“You could say that I’ve studied magic my whole life,” Pidge smirked proudly.

Allura nodded. “Do you know anything about the magic of children of the gods?”

“Uh, not really,” Pidge said. “Though I could tell you what the old legends say. I’m well read, even for a princess.”

Allura pursed her lips. Legends weren’t always the most accurate. Then, she sighed. “So what do you know?”

“Well, demigods are known for their strength. Legend says that a son of the Balmera could move whole mountains,” Pidge grinned.

“Sounds tough,” Hunk commented, scooping up his chopped carrots and dropping them into the already delicious smelling broth in the pot behind him, cooking over an open flame.

“Yeah, maybe for us, but it would be as easy as pushing a cart is for us,” Pidge said, waving a particularly thin carrot before biting into it. Hunk gave her a dirty look for stealing his ingredients, then shifted the vegetables a few more inches towards him.

“You say that, but I’ve seen humans struggle pushing carts,” Allura commented, recalling her study of the rebels as they had set up camp a couple days ago.

“What, you think moving mountains was easy? I doubt it. Why are you asking about demigod magic anyway?” Pidge asked.

“It appears that the Lion Goddess was my mother,” Allura spoke up. She could feel Keith and Shiro look up at her, and Hunk paused in his chopping as he fumbled with the knife.

“You’re a demigod?” Pidge exclaimed, eyes wide.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Hunk said.

“She isn’t. The Lion Goddess herself confirmed it,” Shiro spoke up. Keith’s face was pale, and he turned his attention to Red and Black, his gaze avoiding Allura’s very pointedly. She supposed she deserved that. The both of them had spoken before of their mothers, and how their absence affected them. When Keith had met his mother, Allura had been less than accepting, but Krolia was not to be trusted. None of the Blade were. Not a single dark elf could be trusted any further than Allura could throw- or, well, than a child could throw them. But still, she could see why Keith did not want to converse with her about her goddess mother.

Hunk and Pidge immediately began babbling about that, theorizing about ways to test and study Allura’s demigod powers, and even coming up with possible theories as to why her powers had been dormant. At this, Allura interjected, “The Lion Goddess told me that the gate being closed had been what locked away my abilities. When Lance bled on the Altar, my powers were released.”

“That makes sense,” Hunk commented. “Being that the Lion Goddess can’t affect the mortal realm with her magic so long as she is caged, which means you wouldn’t have any access to your Lion Goddess based magic.”

“But what about the lions?” Allura asked.

“They’re their own gods,” Pidge said, scratching under Green’s chin. Hunk turned to scoop more chopped carrots into the pot boiling above the fire pit.

“There are only three gods,” Allura scoffed.

“I think there are many more than that, but to each her own,” Pidge shrugged. She studied Rover one more time with a scrutinizing expression. “Hey, Allura, you wouldn’t happen to know any ancient animation techniques, would you?”

“I might be well read, but I certainly didn’t waste my time trying to study spells I’d never be able to use,” Allura said with an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Blue suddenly leapt onto Allura’s lap, and purred.  _ He’s awake. _

Allura turned her head just in time to see the twig thin figure of the Harbinger, one Lance McClain, exiting the med tent, pushing aside sheets of leather and studying them all with bright blue eyes. Silence reigned for a few minutes, and then Lance broke into a smile, his eyes watering.

“I thought I was going to die,” Lance mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself and studying each of them as if drinking in the fact that they were here. That they were real. “I didn’t think this would happen.”

Hunk was the first to speak. “You weren’t dying on my watch.”

Lance’s eyes turned to the largest Paladin, and a single tear slipped free as his smile widened. “I know.”

Allura stood first, stepping towards the Harbinger. She smiles at him, honestly just glad to see the scrawny boy on his feet at last. “Well, come along, Paladins. Let’s greet our honored guest and answer any questions he might have.”

Lance pressed his palms together and held them in front of his face, as if he was witnessing something heartwarming and was trying to refrain from obviously wiping away unshed tears. Allura’s heart crackled miserably at the sight. “I-I’m Lance. I… I’ve seen  _ all _ of you, and- I just can’t believe I’m  _ here _ .”

There was a moment of silence again as the Harbinger hurried to dab at his eyes. No one knew how to respond to such a statement. Finally, Keith spoke up, “You didn’t think we’d let you stay a prisoner forever, did you?”

Lance laughed, his eyes on the ground. “No. No, I didn’t think  _ you _ would, Keith. I just… I know I’m nothing special.”

Allura’s heart squeezed at this, and she could see in everyone’s stances just how alarming the words had been. Keith stepped forward, grabbing Lance’s forearm, and his attention. Their eyes met, and even from here Allura could read the fierce fire in Keith’s eyes.

“Listen to me. I will always be here to help you, from here on out. You ask, and I’ll be at your side,” Keith said. “Anywhere you go, you have my blade at your side.”

Lance’s cheeks glowed, and his eyes were wide. Shiro stepped forward and placed his flesh hand on Keith’s right shoulder, the stone one coming to rest on Lance’s, as the boy glanced down in surprise at the grey fingers. His blue eyes met Shiro’s before the man spoke. “And I’m with Keith. Anytime you need a hand, I’ll be there to offer it.”

“Same here,” Pidge piped up, drawing Lance’s attention to her. “I’ll make sure never to let you down, Lance. My magic is at your disposal.”

“I already told you,” Hunk stayed, unfolding his arms. “Nothing bad is happening to you on my watch.”

Lance looked between the four of them like a lost animal. Then he shook his head furiously. “I… no. No, you don’t understand. You’re the  _ Paladins of Voltron _ . I’m- I’m just- I exist to help  _ you _ . Be it with my life… or with my death.”

Good gods in Oriande, who had told this boy that he would have to die for them? Blue’s voice was bitter and angry as she answered Allura’s unasked question,  _ Haggar did, however indirectly she might’ve done it. _

Suddenly Hunk surged forward, pulling the spindle legged boy into his arms. Lance looked startled, and suddenly tears began leaking from his eyes, trailing down his face. His arms tightened around Hunk, his face burying itself into Hunk’s shoulder, muffling sobs and grateful words.

“It’s okay,” Hunk whispered. “It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here.”

“I never thought this would happen,” Lance sobbed, sagging against Hunk’s body. Allura could barely catch what he said next through the weeping and the muffling. “ _ This is all I’ve ever wanted _ .”

* * *

 

After a good long cry in the soft, warm embrace he had never imagined he would get to feel, Hunk sat Lance down on a stool and began pouring soup into a bowl. Lance tasted it, cried a bit more, thanked Hunk and the others for being so kind to him, and was scolded for thanking them for being decent. He had cried a little more, but eventually he settled.

Unfortunately, once he’d calmed down long enough to dry his face and finish off a second bowl of stew, he realized that he could no longer sense or hear the lions. With that revelation came a whole new onslaught of tears, these more miserable and distraught than before. The lions had to curl up around him to calm him down, but finally he managed to relax a bit.

Lance was being fed a third bowl of stew when Shiro sighed and brought everyone’s attention to him. Shiro smiled. “Keith, I think we should tell the McClains that he’s awake.”

“What, now?” Allura interrupted. “He’s only just calmed down.”

“Family is important, Allura. Everyone needs to have the chance to see theirs again. Lance?” Shiro turned to him with a question in his gaze. “Do you want to see your family?”

Lance’s heart leapt into his throat and he stared up at Shiro with big, wide eyes. When Lance was younger, Haggar had lied to him, telling him that the Galra had them in custody, and that if he was good he could visit. It only took so long before he realized she would never let him visit, and by then he convinced himself that she had killed them all.

Then he heard that they were alive- but Lotor was also a liar, and Lance had disregarded everything he had told him. How could he even hope to believe it was true when the man proved he barely even loved him? It was why he didn’t despair as much about never seeing them again. Because he had long since accepted their deaths.

But this. Now. This was Shiro. Brave, strong, good-hearted Shiro. He would never be so cruel as to lie about his family. “They’re… alive?”

“Of course they are,” Keith said. “They’ve cared for me.”

“I…” Lance felt tears spring up in his eyes, and for a moment he was surprised he hadn’t wept himself dry yet. “Yes, I want to see them. I need to see them. Please.”

Shiro nodded, turning to go find Lance’s- Lance’s  _ family _ . Keith came forward, hesitant to speak, but also determined. “They were looking for you.”

“I know,” Lance laughed wetly. “It’s family, that’s what they do.”

“I think I’m starting to see that,” Keith said, his lips turning up at the edges into a small smile. Lance studied his face.

“Were they there for you when…” Lance trailed off, eyeing the red sleeves that covered Keith’s arms. Tentatively he grabbed Keith’s forearm, rubbing his thumbs over where his visions had shown him blood, and scars, and miserable horrors. He didn’t notice the way Keith stiffened. “Were they there for you then?”

When they met gazes again, he noticed how Keith had paled, how his eyes had widened. Lance tried to look sympathetic, but not pitying. He didn’t want Keith to think he was trying to offend him. Slowly, Keith’s gaze dropped to his wrist, and his stance relaxed a little.

“I was in a really dark place when I lost Shiro,” Keith murmured, refusing to meet Lance’s gaze any more. “But I got better. And your family helped me get there.”

“Good.  _ Good _ . Because my family is your family, Keith. I know you don’t know me, but I want you to know that. I know you need it,” Lance said.

Keith smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Keith,” Pidge piped up, drawing both their attentions to her. Her own eyes were locked on where Lance’s hands were rubbing Keith’s sleeve. “Did you… did you cut yourself?”

“I don’t anymore. I’m in a better place. I’m okay now,” Keith said. Pidge frowned.

“But you weren’t okay before,” She said blankly. Hunk was very pointedly looking at the soup as he served another bowl for himself. Allura busied herself with Blue, pretending to have found something sticky in her fur. Lance could tell they were both listening, though.

“I’ve learned a lot since this whole mess started. I used to treat my life like it was expendable,” Keith explained. He turned to Lance, his violet eyes boring into the other’s. “Now I know that no one is expendable. And definitely not me.”

The  _ or you _ went unspoken, but Lance felt the words pierce through his chest anyway. He gave the Red Paladin a shaky smile, and a stilted laugh. “You’re just like I thought you’d be.”

None of the Paladins seemed to have a response to that.

“Lance!” Someone screamed, and Lance flinched, looking around. Then-

“Mamá!?” Lance cried out, and he leapt to his feet, tripping over his ridiculously long toothpick legs to reach the  _ warmsafelovewarmhome _ of his mother’s embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Mamá whispered to him, nearly cradling him in her warm, soft arms.

“I thought you were dead,” Lance sobbed. This was his mother, this was the woman who told him that love was worth fighting to protect. This was his mom. “Then I thought I was dead. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Ay,  _ mijo _ , you’re so strong,” Mamá crooned, cupping his face in her hands. “I should have been stronger for you, I should have fought harder for you. I’m so happy to see you,  _ te amo siempre _ , you understand? Do you understand me?”

Lance wept openly, now. He didn’t care about how badly his head ached, or how much he’d already cried that morning. He was with his mother, and he could feel the rest of his family already coming in to join their hug, he could hear their chorus of love, of concern, of joy. “ _ Sí, Mamá _ . I understand perfectly.”

Lance was surrounded by his family, people and faces he was going to spend the rest of this day relearning. He couldn’t be happier. He never wanted this to end, he never wanted to let go.

He wanted to curl up in his mother’s arms and forget the shadow of death that would come to swallow Altea whole. He wanted to curl up in the hug pile of his family and ignore the ongoing war all around them. He wanted to forget it all, forget who he had been, and who he was becoming. He just wanted to be Lance, a boy with a family that loved him…

Lance wanted to be free, but destiny was its own cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'll finish the next chapter before NaNoWriMo, but I will be taking a hiatus to work on this year's idea for the event, but I promise this will not die! I love this story, it's my baby!


	34. The Will, the Strength, to Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip started long ago is finally finished. Black ships Shatt in this universe. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance get in some bonding time. Balmera sends a message to the people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost done before NaNoWriMo, but then... well, it wouldn't let me write it! Argh! But the point is, it's here now, and here you go!  
> Also, I did see the last season of Voltron, before any of you ask. I liked it. That's all I have to say on the matter because I don't want to get caught up in any long conversations.

“On our way home, huh?” Matt grinned, slinging his leg over Black’s back, and placing his arms around Shiro’s waist. He tucked his chin on the man’s shoulder. “Finally finishing the trip.”

“Sorry we didn’t get to find that rare flower you told me about,” Shiro grinned.

“Please,” Matt huffed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think we’d be able to see a juniberry blossom anyway.”

“They only grow in holy places, right?” Shiro asked. “The Galra probably made them all extinct decades ago anyway.”

“Come on, ‘Kashi, don’t bum me out on my way home,” Matt groaned.

“Okay, fine. Hold on tight, we’re going to take off,” Shiro warned.

Matt grinned, tightening his hold on Shiro’s waist. “I can’t believe we’re going to get to  _ fly _ .”

_ I like the prince. Very brave. _

Shiro laughed. “Black likes you.”

Matt preened. “Well I like her- WHOA!”

Shiro laughed as Matt’s grip tightened around him, the younger man burying his face into the black military style cloak that bore a white Voltron V down the middle. According to Coran, Zarkon had worn it in battle against the Dragon King, but never donned it afterwards. Untainted by his betrayal, but still a memorial of his honored position. Matt’s fingers turned white as his grip tightened on the edges of Shiro’s breastplate. Black’s curling muscles had been enough warning for Shiro, but Matt had been caught completely unaware as the pitch colored manticore leapt into the air.

“ _ Ooho _ , Gods, we’re actually flying!” Matt’s voice quivered a bit, and Shiro took a glance at the world below. The camp was set up in a forest, trees everywhere, interrupted in one clearing by tents and people who were already getting smaller by the second.

“It’s so weird, isn’t it?” Shiro chuckled. “It’s like we could be up here forever.”

“I think I’m airsick,” Matt groaned, and his fingers slid over the metal of Shiro’s armor. “Is that a thing? Can people get airsick?”

Shiro’s chuckles turned into a deep laugh. “I think Hunk did, his first time flying. It’s not like we were made to go flying through the sky anyway.”

“If we fall, your lion better catch us,” Matt grumbled. “I do not want to be a pancake. Flat Matt will not be a fun guy.”

_ I resent the implication that I would let either of you fall _ , Black grumbled. Her scorpion tail flicked through the air.

“Black’s offended,” Shiro relayed.

Matt lifted his head, taking a peak at the world below. “That’s so… weird. How fast we pass everything.”

“I think that’s just part of the magic of the lions. To travel at speeds that aren’t normally feasible,” Shiro said.

“It’s all so pretty. We should have done this at sunset, I bet we could touch the orange on the clouds,” Matt said wistfully, turning his gaze up at the endless azure of sky.

“We can touch down, take a break and start again at sunset,” Shiro offered teasingly. Black and Matt both snorted at him in response.

_ Stop flirting _ , Black said. Rude, he was most definitely not flirting. And if Shiro was grateful that Matt couldn’t see his reddened cheeks, no one needed to know.

“The longer we take, the longer it takes to get Dad’s men to the battlefield. We’ll be confronting the Galra at Naxzela Plains, right?” Matt asked.

“The Blade of Marmora have discerned that from the prophecies they managed to overhear over the past decade, yeah,” Shiro said, feeling the melancholy reality returning to drag his spirits down. Dread in his stomach as he remembered just what he was supposed to do at the Naxzela Plains.

“It sucks that this is our lives, doesn’t it?” Matt‘s laugh was hollow to the ear, bitter in flavor. “I’m a prince to a minor throne of a minor country that is basically the offshoot of a bigger, eviler country. You’re a holy warrior destined to kill an emperor even though you’ve never wanted to kill anyone before. And that poor kid… Lance, right?  _ Leira’s unborn child _ , he was how old when they dragged him to jail?”

“Then there’s the fact that Pidge is also a paladin,” Shiro commented. “As princess to that same minor throne to that same minor country, if she goes down in the battle…”

“You won’t let her,” Matt said, as his hands clenched into fists around Shiro’s waist.

Shiro swallowed. “I won’t.”

Matt’s chin fell onto Shiro’s shoulder. “I just can’t believe this is our world, ‘Kashi.”

Shiro stared into nothing as he turned Matt’s words over in his head, studying them like he’d never known them in his life. Quietly, distractedly, he said, “Neither can I.”

And the both of them flew in silence over the long stretches of land and forest below, a sight few people had ever seen before. A sight too serene and peaceful for the chaotic worries of their minds.

* * *

 

Hunk was busy explaining to Lance where they were all going, and why they were doing so, as Pidge packed her bags and used leather cords to fasten them onto the shimmering metallic green armor Green had conjured for herself. All the lions had done so, Black’s looking as dark as onyx as she took off into the sky, Red’s looking as if carved from rubies, Yellow draped in gold-leafed bronze, and Blue covered in a strange sort of blue tinted silver. It looked nice, admittedly, with a Voltron V in the helm of each one made from actual turquoise.

“And Keith will be accompanying the Blade to the Crest to gather allies from the scattered tribes up there,” Hunk finished. “You know, the one’s surrounding No Man’s Land.”

“I’m familiar with the tribes,” Lance said, nodding. He was draped in the colorful clothes of a nomadic merchant, bright reds and yellows and oranges, all matched with browns and blacks. A beautiful sunset was depicted in the weaving of his sweater, golden and warm on his back. It had only been a few hours, but already his family had cleaned him up, stuffed his belly, and even cut his hair. Pidge grinned at the image of his mother feeding him while cutting his hair at the same time.

Lance was still speaking, “So you two aren’t combat trained? In all my visions, I never really got a clear answer for that.”

“I know a few combat spells,” Pidge spoke up. “But it’s really just swish-swish-stab. Daggers are pretty straightforward.”

“And with my hammer, if I can lift it over my head, I can use it,” Hunk shrugged. “As a friend once told me, ‘all I have to do is swing’, you know?”

Lance smiled. “I wish I could lift a hammer. I’d give anything to be useful in this fight.”

“You  _ have _ been useful,” Pidge said. “You kept Shiro safe for as long as possible, from what I’ve heard. And when you couldn’t, you told the very people you knew could help him. If it weren’t for you, we’d never have gotten here.”

“And if we were never here, the battle would be lost before it even started,” Hunk agreed.

“As scary as it is to think about, we made a huge difference in the odds,” Pidge pointed out. “Without our missions to gather the lions, we wouldn’t have the allies we’re gathering now.”

Hunk nodded, shifting his hammer so he could lean on the handle. “Without the missions, we’d also never have the lions, and I doubt we’d have woken up Allura in the first place if Shiro never escaped.”

“The only thing I can think of that would’ve stayed the same is Keith waiting in No Man’s Land,” Pidge said.

Lance looked between the two of them. “I guess I have done a lot for the cause. But I’ve also done a lot to harm it. I’d rather be able to help you guys fight. Lotor’s agents were teaching me some archery, but I don’t think I’m good enough yet to participate in any fighting.”

“Hey, anything you can contribute will bring us closer to winning,” Pidge commented. “And Allura might be willing to help you hone the craft on the way to the battlefield.”

“Hey, if Lance is on the job, I trust him to watch out for us,” Hunk said, clapping the twig thin boy on the back and making him stumble a step. Pidge snickered at the sight, even as Lance’s face broke out into a grin and the two of them just looked at each other.

“I, uh, should go,” Lance piped up. “Maybe if I find Allura I can talk her into helping me out with some archery.”

“All you really need to do is turn on the waterworks,” Pidge snorted. “Pretty sure she’d drop anything for the kicked puppy we found in the snow.”

Lance smiled wistfully, his eyes misting a bit as he thought of long gone days. “My sister showed me a wolf pup once.”

Pidge met Hunk’s gaze, and she swore he was thinking the exact same thing as her. They had to acquaint this poor boy with some real, cuddle-worthy puppies as soon as this was all over. Curious, Pidge asked, “So do you have visions every night?”

Lance blinked at her with wide eyes. “Yeah, I did. I can’t feel the lions anymore, so I don’t think I’ll be seeing anything else.”

“How did the visions work? I mean, surely you’d know everything that’s going to happen from here on out?” Pidge asked, dropping her chin into her palms as she sat on a rock. Lance laughed.

“No, it’s not like that. I only remembered the visions that lingered after I woke up. Sometimes I remembered more than I did the previous night, or less,” Lance explained, moving his hands as if his vague gestures meant anything at all to Pidge. “And some of the time, I dreamt things that some internal voice was telling me to stop from happening. Futures where I saw you dead, or I saw Zarkon standing in triumph- a voice kept telling me not to let this happen. Plenty of my visions were little things. Like how Hunk helped out with the children in the village, or how you hated your nickname up until your brother wasn’t around to call you that anymore. I remembered those easiest, because… well, because I got so attached to you all. Brave warriors fighting for the safety of the whole kingdom? Heroes in every sense of the word? And yet at the same time, just regular people with hopes and fears. I wanted to know everything about you, I wanted to be standing at your side! I guess it just stuck with me easier. But that wasn’t all of it. I dreamt of your triumphs, of your battles. I dreamt of reunions and heartbreaks, and… and I swear some of my dreams were in real time. I was side by side with Keith as he ran through crowded city streets, or I was choking on flour while Hunk was baking, or I could smell old parchment and read over your shoulder- Katie, do you know how well I  _ know _ you?”

Lance’s eyes were piercing and earnest, locked on hers in a way that made her feel small and uncomfortable. The feeling of a child looking at a relative they couldn’t remember when that relative pinched their cheeks and told them they’d gotten so much bigger than they were before. Pidge swallowed. “I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lance blinked. Then again. And suddenly the boy was laughing. Loud and warm and kind. But also bitter. Lance grabbed Pidge’s hands, and shook his head. “No. Don’t be sorry. I cherished every single vision. With  _ all _ my heart.”

Pidge wished she could figure out how to give him real memories to cherish.

_ He’s really something, isn’t he? _ Green asked, sounding proud.

* * *

 

In a cave far to the west, Shay felt a tremor in her heart and a warmth spreading under her skin as she prayed. Surprised by the sensation, she opened her eyes, and saw in the cave all around her beautiful turquoise stones, flowers and grasses and plants fo all kind growing around them. The statue of Balmera themself pulsed with a warm, enticing glow.

Shay watched in wonder as light spiraled through the earth beneath her feet, weaving and swirling and forming beautiful patterns as they extended beyond the cave, beyond Shay’s prayer. “Balmera?”

Then the visions came. Not anything prophetic, simply a memory. Shay and Hunk, side by side, fighting against the Galra that controlled her home, the Moon Harvest grounds. Yellow, the fierce lion, at their side. Shay puffed her chest in pride. The Galra had not come back yet, preoccupied with stopping their defeat in other places. Shay was unsure if she and her people had thanked the Paladins properly. How did one thank their saviors?

“Am I to fight beside Paladin Hunk once again, Balmera?” Shay asked, bowing her head and closing her eyes once more, focusing on the feelings and words her deity sent to her. A blazing determination filled her heart, alongside the passion of a warrior.

“I will do my best, Balmera.”

Meanwhile, in another place to the north of the Harvest grounds, Te-osh could feel a ripple through the trees. Turquoise spirals and twists filled the ground, branching up into the trees and tracing the veins within. Te-osh could feel the life of the forest around her stronger than she ever had before. Ryner, who had been helping Te-osh re-acclimate to using her legs, shivered. “Balmera.”

“Deity of life, time, and everything,” Te-osh recalled. “What are they telling us?”

Ryner placed a hand on her chest, her eyes wide. Te-osh opened her mouth to ask what was happening, but then she felt it. The overwhelming sensation of warmth, of unity, filled her chest, curling up there and settling in to stay. Her strength seemed to come back to her all at once, and her resolve as well.

The fight against the Galra was far from over. The battle for Altea was yet to be decided. And when the time came, Te-osh would fight alongside the Green Paladin, little warrior though she may be.

Once again, in yet another place, far far to the west and lying upon the beaches of Rygnirath, stood Lord Samuel Holt beside the three other oligarchs of Terra. They watched the barrier with trepidation. It had failed them once, and the Galra had come in and stolen a young boy supposedly because he was the future Yellow Paladin. Since, they had been hesitant to bring the wall down for any reason at all, and their food stores were growing less plentiful by the day.

The four oligarchs were faced with a decision. One that could very well spell out disaster for the lot of them.

“If we surrender to the Galra, we will lose our independence,” Lord Sablan announced, his face pinching tightly at the very idea.

“As if we are even truly independent today,” Lady Rizavi muttered under her breath in that slightly mutinous way teenagers had a habit of using. She had recently taken over for her caretaker and she had already disproved their fears that she might be too eager to agree with them in order to lessen her burden.

“Surrender may be our only option,” Lady Sanda said, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “I want what is best for our people, and if we do not surrender, many of us will surely perish. The Galra have many more numbers than we do.”

“We haven’t fought this far to surrender now,” Sam argued. “We cannot go down in history as the oligarchs that gave up.”

“We have no leverage,” Sanda reminded, her eyes narrowing. She folded her arms. “Must I remind you that we are literally cornered by the Empire? They already have free reign of our outlying territories, the ones beyond the barrier.”

“The barrier!” Rizavi exclaimed, leaping to her feet from her throne and rushing to the wide windows. “It’s dropping!”

“Are we under attack!?” Sablan demanded, hurrying to join her at the window. Sanda and Sam also hurried to the window, watching as the orange forcefield gave way to a bright turquoise light, melting away as a figure flew into view. There was no sign of any Imperial armaments, not yet.

“What is that?” Sam asked, squinting to see the dark shape against the bright sky. Rizavi gasped.

“It’s the legendary Black Lion!” She turned on her heel and immediately began to rush out of the council room, her bodyguard quickly following after her with a glance towards the other oligarchs.

The others followed her fast paced path through the castle halls out to the front of the Big House, where the Black Lion was landing, two figures mounted on her back, nestled just behind her large, leathery wings.

Sam felt his heart squeeze tightly as he saw one of the men dismount and hold out his hands to aide- “Matt?”

Prince Matthew Holt slid off of the Black Lion with all the grace of a newborn lamb taking its first steps. That is to say that the other man -Takashi Shirogane- had to catch him and set him right on his unsteady legs.

Matt grinned at his dad. “Father. Lords and Ladies of the committee. Pleased to see you all once again. I trust you all remember Sir Shirogane, my knight?”

“You’re what?” Sablan demanded, as he was quite the stickler for tradition, and Shiro had definitely not been knighted under any traditional law. But Sam didn’t care. The man had brought his son home, he deserved the title.

“Sir Shirogane is the Black Paladin,” Matt said, giving Sablan a blank look. “He has saved my life, my sister’s life, and that of many others. He more than deserves his knighthood.”

“I have no issue with that ruling,” Sam said with a warm smile. “Welcome home, Matt.”

A bright smile and wet eyes appeared on his son’s face. “It’s good to be back.”

Sam looked to Shiro, unable to express his gratitude to his liking. “I’m not sure how I can thank you, Sir Shirogane. You’ve brought my son home. It is a blessing to have him here once again.”

“If I hadn’t lost him in the first place, it wouldn’t have been necessary,” Shiro protested modestly. “I couldn’t do the job you asked of me, and it almost cost you your son and heir. I am so deeply sorry for that.”

Sanda finally tore her eyes away from the beautiful onyx colored manticore decked in black battle armor. “Black Paladin, you say?”

“That would be me,” Shiro agreed. “Sir Shirogane, Black Paladin.”

And with that, tendrils of turquoise light spiraled around all their feet, almost unnoticed. A warmth filled all of their chests, and a feeling arose in every single one of them.

Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired, I woke up at one with a sudden bout of inspiration and have been unable to sleep since.


End file.
